


Trapped in Time - Era of Sherlock Holmes

by rea_grimm



Series: Trapped in Time [1]
Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Aliens, Gods, Loki (Marvel) is Thomas Sharpe, Love Triangles, M/M, Multiverse, Murder Mystery, Yon-Rogg is John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rea_grimm/pseuds/rea_grimm
Summary: Yon-Rogg from the planet Kree, who crashes on Earth and here he pretends to be John Watson. The doctor who falls in love with the famous Sherlock Holmes. However, over time, someone else enchants him. Unknown name Thomas Sharpe. How does this love triangle end?(More interesting story from chapter 5)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Loki (Marvel), Sherlock Holmes/Thomas Sharpe
Series: Trapped in Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929196
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not interested in Dr Watson's background and their first case, skip to Chapter 5, where it all kicks off. The doctor gets an offer to go home, and on the other hand, the detective's attention is drawn to an unknown baronet.

Kree's fleet persecuted Thanos's spies fleeing space. In a cowardly attempt to get rid of their pursuers, they flew into the asteroid belt, where they parted and a small ship headed for Earth.

„Get the others! This one is mine!” ordered Yon-Rogg, the commander of this fleet, before going after the spy. He was on his heels when the spy decided on the last desperate attack, when, with luck, he hit Yon-Rogg's ship. Specifically, he managed to hit the landing module. The ship began to shake uncontrollably, the dashboard glowing and flashing like a Christmas tree, showing completely random values.

Yon had trouble securing the ship It was a long-range battleship, a special module was designed for one person only. He was trying to balance the ship somehow. He was an excellent pilot, no one dared to guess. The landing was long and rough. Part of the ship was severely damaged during the crash. The whole interior was filled with smoke. He opened the door, releasing all the accumulated smoke coming from the overheated technology.

The fresh earth air was cold and humid. He climbed out of the spaceship and slid onto the muddy ground, which was still soaked by the recent rain. His foot slipped on the mud and fell.  
„What kind of horrible planet is this? ” h e asked himself as he scrambled to his feet and began tapping something on the display on his wrist.  
„Planet C-53  a lso called Earth. Location: London. Local language: English. Year: 1890. The planet is still evolving. It falls under the protection of the Nova Corps. The population is relatively primitive, ” h e read aloud.  
„That's great. I'm on a planet full of savages,” he sighed and returned to the ship. The smoke was gone and he was examining the extent of the damage.

Many of the devices were severely damaged. But one still worked. Locator. According to the device, the spy landed just a few miles from him. He armed himself and took a special camouflage device that fit in his pocket and transferred the data from the ship to the computer in his hand. He lowered the hologram of the map and set off. In about an hour, he reached his destination. The spy's ship was even more damaged than his own, and it was still smoking. He opened the hatch and looked inside.  
„Self-destruct program activated. The destruction will take place in five minutes,” an electronic voice said. Yon slammed the hatch angrily and set out to explore the area. Maybe the spy tried to erase the tracks of self-destruction, but he probably wasn't that smart. Yon found his muddy tracks moving away from the ship. He followed them to a large city that he thought was London and where the tracks had disappeared. He hid in the shadows and watched the locals. It was obvious that he didn't fit in well here with his blue uniform and yellow eyes.

He pulled aside into an empty alley where the clothes were hanging on strings. He made sure no one was in sight, scanned his clothes, and when the computer confirmed a few things, he put it on. Now he could embark on his quest again. Now he was indistinguishable from true earthlings. Unfortunately, he also lost track of the spy. He mingled with the crowd and continued to search. His tracking device detected a faint trace of residual energy that certainly didn't come from this planet. He discreetly chased it into one of the tangled streets. At the same time, he missed an Earthling with special clothes, which was different from the previous ones he had seen so far, and he also had a very distinctive nose. He just wondered, but otherwise paid him no attention.

A group of three Earthlings in torn clothes ran past him, pushed into him and snatched a pocket watch in his hand with a masked locator device.  
„Hey, it's mine! ” h e shouted at them and went after the thieves. He was much more physically fit than the Earthlings, and he easily caught up with the thieves. He knocked the first one to his knees. The other thief counterattacked. He tried a fake lunge and then tripped Yon-Rogg's legs. „You wanna play, hmm? I don't have time for that,” he was upset. He stood up and knocked out the thieves with trained movements. The third thief, meanwhile, had enough time to escape and with the watch, he headed for a man with a strange nose who looked as if he didn't even know about the world around him.

Yon-Rogg ran after the thief, but someone was faster. The man with the big nose was in control of the whole situation, and as the thief passed him, he knocked him to the ground with a single accurate blow to the chin. The thief only grumbled in pain before the stranger took his stolen watch. He glanced at them before Yon-Rogg ran up to him.  
„Take better care of your things next time,” he said, returning his watch. „If you left it at Scotland Yard, you would most likely never see them again. And speaking of them, they should be here any minute,”  d uring his speech, the stranger took off the strange rags under which he hid the black suit and removed the fake nose from his face. Now he looked normal and, according to Yon, slightly handsome. Not that he was attracted to Earthlings.

„You were just in the right place at the right time,” he replied sceptically.  
„No coincidence. It was obvious that he would run this way. It was the only free exit from this labyrinth of streets. As you can see, there are a total of five exits. One is blocked by a wrecked car carrying oil, the other two are guarded by the police, and the fourth was inadvertently blocked by you. Well, I was here. Besides, this is the exit to one of London's busiest streets. He would perfectly get lost in the crowd here. Therefore, this makes it the best escape route of all. The case is closed,” he explained.  
„Amazing,” it escaped from his mouth.  
„Nothing that couldn't be deduced. You, my dear friend, you are a much bigger mystery to me” he turned to Yon-Rogg and glanced at him. He saw in him a great unknown that he would like to reveal.

Gradually, the thump of footsteps could be heard heading straight towards them.  
„My time to leave. Just to avoid problems, ”  he smiled and disappeared into the crowd like a ghost. Shortly after his departure, men in black uniforms, members of Scotland Yard led by Inspector Lestrade, filled the alley.  
„So what do we have here? ” t he inspector said, examining the stunned thief.  
„Sir, this is one of the Price brothers,” said  c onstable Clark.  
„I see that too. Go, as I know Holmes, there are two more, ” h e ordered, turning to Yon. „And who are you?”  
„I was just walking through here when the fool robbed me,” he replied abruptly.  
„Understood. Lucky Holmes was here, huh? ” h e joked.  
„Holmes? ” h e asked.  
„Haven't you heard of him? I'm surprised.”  
„I've been gone for a long time, ”  he improvised.  
„Oh, that makes sense. You know, Sherlock Holmes is a detective . ..”  
„The best detective in the world,” Clark interrupted.  
„Yeah, he's stealing our cases, ” t his information caught his eye. Maybe he could use Sherlock to help him find Thanos' spy.  
„Tell me, gentlemen, where can I find Sherlock Holmes? ”  he asked with a mischievous look.  
„Well, try the men's club on the corner of Carnaby Street. He often spends time there after finishing a case. I would look for him there, ”  the inspector thought.  
„Thank you for the information. Now, if you'll excuse me,” he said goodbye and left.

He had no idea where to look for the club, but he didn't even have to know. He entered the information into a locator, which immediately showed him the direction he had taken. He found the club easily, but he couldn't find the person he was looking for in it. He intertwined with the crowd until he ended up at the bar. He sat down at the counter and looked at his watch. They completely lost track of the spy and the detective. He sighed. With this approach, he will never fulfil his mission.  
„Hey, you, ”  the bartender addressed him. Yon-Rogg looked at him annoyed. „Aren't you, by any chance, a mysterious soldier who helped Holmes?”  h e asked with a slight smile.  
„Today I had the pleasure of meeting Mr Holmes. But he was in a hurry, ”  he replied casually, looking at the bartender.  
„He said you would definitely be looking for him here. So I have to give you this. At first, I thought he was kidding, but he was right. As always,” he handed him a folded piece of paper. Yon took it and examined it. On the cover was written: For a mysterious soldier.  
How could he know he was a soldier? Probably a coincidence. He unfolded the paper and read:

„ _Dear stranger,  
it looks like I've aroused some interest in you. If you want to know more, you can find me tomorrow at 221B Baker Street. I’ll wait for you.  
SH”_

„He was right that it was you. I can see it in your eyes,” the annoying bartender smiled. He wanted to add something when Yon-Rogg looked at him with a look that, if he could, the bartender would already be lying dead on the ground.  
„That's enough,” he said angrily.  
„Sure. Of course, you're right. I just…” he stopped immediately when he noticed the soldier's gaze. „I'm silent,” he blurted out, wiping the counter, but he was still watching him.  
„That's good. Thank you for handing over the letter. If you'll excuse me, I have to leave,” he said.  
„That's a nice freak to me,” the bartender growled under his moustache.

The soldier went to his ship. He had to sleep somewhere and yet he wouldn't sleep in some slimy and dirty street. Especially in such a winter. He disguised the ship so that no Earthling could find it and locked it. He settled into a reclining chair and had a plan in his head before he fell asleep. If what he had heard about Sherlock Holmes was true, he intended to use his abilities to his advantage and get Thanos's spy. Then he'll return home triumphantly as a true hero. How wonderful the plan sounded. Nothing could go wrong.

The next morning he got up quite early, all crushed. His ship was not built to spend the night. He rinsed his face with water and went outside. A cold morning breeze blew through him and he was cold. He was not used to such weather. He looked at the ticket once more before entering the address into the locator. Only now, however, did he realize that the detective had not written to him what time he was to arrive. Won't it be too soon now? He thought. He had no idea. He was not identified with the earthly lifestyle.

Maybe he should wait a few more hours. In the meantime, he could explore the city. With that in mind, he headed for London, completely forgetting that he hadn't eaten since last night. He walked several streets and saved the ones that seemed important to him in the locator. When it was clear that most of the Earthlings were already awake and walking through the streets of London, he could safely say that it resembled his homeland. Although the Earthlings weren't so advanced. They may sometimes be able to catch up with Kree, even though he strongly doubted it.

He walked to Baker Street, right in front of door 221B. He was about to knock on them when they opened themselves. An elderly lady stood directly in front of him, her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun. Wrinkles lined her face, and she smiled too suspiciously at him.  
„You must be the soldier Holmes was talking about. You are much  more handsome than I imagined you. It's unusual for cute guys like you to come to him and not want to solve a cheating case. Come on, come inside, don't stand here,”  sh e pushed him inside. „You know, it's very difficult to get well with Sherlock. It may not look like it, but I'm at the end of my strength. I'm also glad you keep an eye on him. It's about time. Now go up the stairs. And where are my manners? My name is Martha Louise Hudson. I rent it here  to  Mr Holmes. And you are? ” s he startled him  
„Umm, Yon...”  
„John? That's a very nice name. And your last name?”  
„Watson, ”  he said after a moment, glancing across the street at a carriage that read Watson and son.  
„What a wonderful name. Well, John, nice to meet you,” she offered her hand. Yon accepted it hesitantly and shook with Mrs Hudson.  
„It's my pleasure.”  
„Such a nice young man. And he's polite to it all,”  s he smiled before leading him to the big door. She knocked once before entering. „You have a visitor, and exceptionally it's not Scotland Yard,”  s he said suddenly venomously. She turned her back on the detective to make room for Yon in the doorway. „I'll get you some tea,”  s he smiled kindly at Yon before walking down the stairs.

Yon hesitantly stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and  analysed the room he was in. There was complete chaos. Books rolled across the ground, along with test tubes that still contained various mixtures of chemicals. On the tiger, fur lay a coat from the previous day, which Yon knew very well. At the same time, the room was filled with various flowers, which gave the space a jungle atmosphere. Directly opposite the door was a large window with two armchairs, a small crowded table between them, and a fireplace on the left, in which a fire blazed lazily.  
„I hope you're not going to stand there all day,” Sherlock said from his chair.  
„No, of course not,” he replied in surprise, walking over to the detective and sitting down in an empty chair. It was quite comfortable.  
„How are you? ”  Sherlock asked, shaking his hand. „You were,… You're at war, I suppose. In a very distant war.”  
„How do you know that? ” h e asked in surprise. All the while, he thought he was behaving like a real terrestrial civilian. That he merged with his surroundings.  
„It doesn't matter. You came to see me for a reason. It is certain that I have attracted some attention to you. You probably need my help. Rather, you are looking for someone, but in vain. What's more, London is a whole new world for you. At the same time, you speak excellently English, despite the fact that you have been out of the country for a long time. I'll be happy to take your case. But on one condition,” he smiled triumphantly. Yon couldn't stare. Surprisingly, his jaw dropped, as the detective was theoretically right about everything. Sherlock chuckled slightly at his reaction.

„And what would that be?” Yon asked after a moment.  
„You don't have to worry about anything at all. It will be quite beneficial for you. I'm looking for someone to help me with the rent. There is everything, including a fully equipped bedroom. And you, my dear John Watson, look like someone who would welcome a roof over your head.”  
„And why do you think that?” he tried to play his game.  
„You just look like someone sleeping under a poor shelter in the middle of a field. Your whole outfit suggests that, including the mud on your shoes,” he joined his hands and rested his chin on them. His eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement at the new game. This time, of course, he was right about everything, and Yon had no idea how to react. He thought it over carefully before nodding in agreement. In addition, when he lives in the city, he will learn the local customs and thus blend in better with his surroundings than catch the treacherous spy.  
„I agree with your condition,” he replied, holding out his hand. It was too late to think that this gesture might mean anything else here, but he was relieved when Sherlock shook hands with him as proof of their deal and smiled mischievously at Yon. How could rent be so expensive? He could simply convert several units into the local currency.

Yon-Rogg moved to Baker Street that day. He didn't have much. He quickly found new clothes, some books on local culture, and a few little things he thought would look more like an earthling. Including a large notebook and stationery, where he wanted to record traces and knowledge from Earth. Holmes said nothing about his stuff. He just watched him, amused and interested, as he unpacked.

That same evening, they sat down together in chairs by the crackling fire. The detective wanted to talk to him about a few details about their new life together.  
„I hope you don't mind the smell of strong tobacco? ”  Sherlock asked, loading his pipe.  
„I don't mind. I also smoke myself,” he lied, in part because he didn't mind the smoke itself.  
„That's good. As you may have noticed, I have several chemicals here and I experiment with them very often. Hope you don't mind.”  
„ Not at all.”   
„Good. Now I would say a little about my not-so-popular features. Sometimes I'm in a bad mood and I don't talk to the whole world for a few days. In this case, ignore me completely. It will be the best. I'm not a very good companion at the time. And what about you? If we live together, I think it would be appropriate to know the worst about the other” Yon laughed at his words. He didn't expect such an approach.  
„I am a perfectionist. I like things nicely in order and I also get up very soon,” he thought.  
„What would you say about playing the violin? ”  he asked, full of anticipation.  
„It depends on who plays them. When well, it's a ballad for the ears, but vice versa .. .”  
„Well, very well. I think we'll understand, ”  he laughed. „Otherwise regarding the rent, it will be divided in half. You can give your share directly to Mrs Hudson or me at the end of the month. It's up to you,” he added.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been about a week since Yon-Rogg moved into Baker Street. During his stay, he never stopped to think for a minute about his original goal, though he had found himself many times before, during his conversation with Sherlock, losing sight of the conversation itself and instead only hearing the detective's melodious voice and his throwing his arms enthusiastically and pointing at various experiments during his speech. Very often he engaged in various discussions with him when he thought he had enough knowledge of the matter. Unfortunately, he always ended up staring in disbelief at how, despite all his arguments, which were unquestionably verified, he had convinced him by deduction to the contrary. And it always came out of his mouth as something completely basic. It made him feel like a complete fool.

He kept a diary for his notes on his mission but instead wrote down notes about his roommate. At one point, he was even recording his knowledge of things like politics, chemistry, biology, etc. After reviewing his research, he was beginning to think that the famous Sherlock Holmes must have been from another, much more advanced planet. None of the Earthlings could have been this brilliant. He looked stupid next to him, too.

In the time he lived with the detective, he never saw him leave the room. Except, of course, for short walks, when he went out for tobacco and other narcotics, as he had found out. One day Yon was collecting mail and, as always, there was a nice pile of letters addressed to Sherlock. He took them and walked over to the detective's room. He was about to knock on the door when there was a loud bang from inside. Without thinking, he threw open the door and burst in. Thick, black smoke engulfed the room. He immediately ran across the room, opening every window there was. Thanks to his prompt actions, the room began to brighten slowly as a worried Mrs Hudson hurried upstairs.  
„Oh, my God, what happened here? You are seriously trying to ruin this place. John, please, talk to him. That's the third time this week,” she pleaded Yon.  
„Yes, ma'am, I'm already working on it. Now please go and rest. I'll  take care of this ,” and sent her down with a reassuring smile. She took one last look at the mess before leaving completely.  
„Holmes, what are you doing?” he said to his  room-mate , who was still coughing and covered in smoke. He helped the detective to his feet and put him in a chair near a window where the air was better.  
„I was that close,” he muttered in frustration, fumbling in his pockets for his pipe. He needed a smoke.  
„Close to what? Destroying the house?” Yon began, as a concerned parent.  
„No, I was working on making a special powder to help me investigate cases and the subsequent culprit. Instead, I had to make a mistake somewhere and instead invented a new kind of gunpowder. Fantastic, don't you think?” he smiled innocently. Yon merely sighed. If it was anyone else, he'd be furious. But he couldn't say no to him. Plus,  when he was  smiling at him so innocently.  
„I have your mail,” he said, changing the subject and tossing the letters into his lap.  
„I'm sure it's the same thing. A missing gem, a missing husband, and similar requests,” he replied, bored, and glanced at them quickly, tossing the uninteresting ones to the ground. Only one of them caught his eye. It was a letter from Scotland Yard. He thought it must have come a little while ago.

„ _My dearest Sherlock Holmes,  
something very bad happened at three o'clock at night in Lauriston Gardens on Brixton Road. At 2 a.m. he saw a light in one of the houses. He knew that the house had been unoccupied for a long time and so he suspected that something had happened there. He went to investigate. The door to the house was open, the furniture completely bare, and he found the body of a rather expensively dressed man who had a card in his pocket in the name of Enoch J Drebber, Cleveland, Ohio, USA. This was not a theft, nor do we have any clues as to how the man may have died. There are signs of blood, but there are no superficial injuries on the man himself. We reached the dead end. It would be best if you came here until noon at the latest while I'm here. We've kept everything intact for your sake until I hear your expert opinion. If you can't come, I'll send you a detailed message. I'll be very grateful for your opinion._

_Faithfully  
Tobias Gregson”_

„Um, Gregson and Lestrade are the smartest in Scotland Yard. There is nothing left but to help them,” he murmured with a grin after reading the letter. He got up, got a clean coat, wiped his dirty face in the old one, closed the windows, and started for the door. There he paused as if remembering something important. „Coming?” he asked Watson after turning to face him.  
„Oh, go alone. I'm not a detective. I'd only get in the way of you and Scotland Yard,” he replied.  
„That's nonsense, and you know it. You could go for two simple reasons. First, in the time we've lived together, I've observed that you have considerable knowledge of medicine. Doctor it is. He's always perfect for a crime scene. And second, you would go as my moral support. Plus, the advice of a good friend is always useful. So I ask you one more time. Coming?” he asked again, with a winning smile.  
„It will be my pleasure,” Yon replied, following him. Again he was amazed at what Sherlock could find out about him. As a soldier in the service of the Kree, he must have had a basic knowledge of medicine if anyone was injured on missions. It may have been the basics for him, but on Earth, it was enough to call a doctor. A doctor, that could be an excellent cover.

Together they ordered a cab and drove to the address. Within minutes they were at their destination, and the police let them in without much trouble. At least, the Sherlock they knew. Yon was a new face to them, a new unknown who could be a threat to their homeland and so it was clear that they did not trust him and did not want to let him in.  
„Gentlemen, this man is with me. If you don't let him in, you'll leave me no choice, and I'll be forced to leave,” interjected Sherlock, who knew he was popular with the police and, most importantly, that they were screwed without his help.  
„Certainly, sir,” one of the policemen replied, immediately releasing Yon to the scene.

They followed a cluster of police until they were in a grey, square room. You could tell that no one had lived here for a long time. Slowly, dirty wallpaper peeled off the walls, a dead fireplace, and a single-window that was so dirty you could barely see through it. The top of the glacier was a thick layer of dust in which fresh footprints were clearly visible.  
„Here you are at last,” said the inspector, „as promised, no one touched anything.”  
„I'm glad that's something since the others managed to perfectly trample any footprints in the backyard,” he replied sarcastically, stretching his arms and kneeling beside his body. Meanwhile, Yon met Gregson and examined the body himself from a distance.

The man on the ground was maybe 43 or 44 years old. He was on his back, so you could see his face. He had short, curly hair and a trim beard. He was fully dressed. He was already wearing an expensive coat, an ornate waistcoat, and a hat laid beside his head. He had a rather blunt nose and a low forehead. These features made his face look more like a monkey. At the same time, he had clenched fists and dead eyes that hid a hidden horror and a certain hatred. What must he have seen before he died?  
„Are you sure he didn't suffer any injuries?” Sherlock's voice interrupted Yon's thoughts.  
„Absolutely,” replied the inspector.  
„Then it's certain the blood belongs to someone else. Probably our killer. When it came to murder, that is. It reminds me very much of the death of Van Jansen in Utrech. He was barely 34 years old. Do you remember that?” he asked the inspector.  
„I'm afraid I can't remember,” he said.  
„Then look it up,” he replied, continuing to search the corpse. Tactically and expertly, he searched all pockets, folds, and hidden places then returned to his original state with perfect precision. During all this, however, he had a distant look, as if he were oblivious to anything around him. Towards the end of his exploration, he sniffed at the deceased's half-open mouth and carefully examined the soles of his boots, and when he was absolutely certain that he had not overlooked anything, he rose and nodded to Gregson. He commanded his men, who took the body by the legs and under the shoulders and carried it out. As they lifted the deceased, they revealed the ring on which he had been lying all along. Holmes immediately took the ring and examined it closely. It was a lady's engagement ring.

„Sir, you need to look in the next room right now,” said one of the officers assigned to search the rest of the house. Sherlock looked at John, and there was that look in his eyes of a little boy getting a new toy.  
„Come, Watson. There is a mystery next door that yearns to be solved,” he commanded, and accompanied by Gregson, the pair entered the next room, to which a policeman was pointing. Like the rest of the house, it was empty. The only thing worth noting was the bloody writing on the wall. RACHE.  
„Could the victim have been trying to write to Rachel but not finished? Maybe that's why he had the ring on him,” the inspector mused.  
„Anything is possible,” agreed Yon, as Sherlock took a magnifying glass from his coat and began to examine the inscription in detail. Once he was done with the wall, he lay down. Facing the floor, he examined something again. It might have reminded some of a hunting dog that had just found a scent.

Some might find the detective's methods unusual, odd, and possibly unnecessary, but Yon suspected there was more to it than that. Something he couldn't find in normal ways. After about twenty minutes, Sherlock got up and walked over to Yon's door.  
„We're done here. From what I've heard of your thoughts, I must say you're on the right track. You can make this case without my help,” he smiled pleasantly, if slightly falsely. But no one noticed. „Just one last question. Who found the body?”  
„John Rance. He's off duty at the moment,” the inspector replied.

That was all Sherlock needed before he left the scene in peace. Yon was right behind him, of course. Holmes took one last look at the muddy footprints in the yard and on the path by the fence before he and Yon walked slowly away.  
„They have no idea who did it,” the detective chuckled as they were halfway to Baker Street.  
„But you said yourself they were on the right track,” Yon said.  
„They certainly are, but as I know them, they're bound to go in quite the opposite direction. They'll try to find a person named Rachel. In vain, though,” he replied simply.  
„How so?”  
„Because it was revenge. The victim was poisoned. Our killer is approximately five feet tall, smokes and has a square sole of his shoes, and I can also assume that he and the victim were acquainted. They went into the house together. It is certain, then, that they came together. The horse of the cab they came in with had three old horseshoes and a new one,” he explained calmly.  
„But how did you find all this out?”  
„Elementary, my dear Watson. There were trace amounts of poison in the victim's mouth. But I am not entirely sure what the poison was. Maybe it was some kind of mixture. However, there were two pairs of older shoes in the backyard and the house. One belonged to the victim. The others must have belonged to the killer. I could tell his average height by his size. Subsequently, I found the remains of tobacco ash on the floor by the wall with the inscription on it. And I identified the horseshoes using footprints in the mud outside the house. One of the tracks was deeper, so the horse had to have a new horseshoe.”  
„This is unbelievable,” he gasped.  
„Not much. Rather, you should learn to watch better,” he replied, clearly pleased by Yon's remark.  
„What now?” he asked expectantly.  
„Now? Now let's go talk to John Rance,” and with that, they went to the officer who discovered the body.

„Well, I was on my classic rounds when I noticed the lights in the house. I didn't pay attention at first until you realized the owners had gone away. I went to the door and knocked. When I pulled the handle, it was unlocked. I went in and found the poor guy. Subsequently, I went out to send for colleagues,” the constable recalled.  
„Was anyone else there?” asked Sherlock.  
„Well... That is, if I remember correctly, there was a drunk leaning against the fence. Nothing unusual for that hour of the night. Although I haven't seen a guy this drunk in a while. He could barely stand up,” the detective's eyes sparkled at this.  
„And was there a cab by at the time?” he asked.  
„No, sir,” he replied.  
„Thank you for your time.”

„The drunk was coming back for the ring,” he told Yon.  
„You think so?”  
„I'm sure of it,” he replied. Together they walked up to Baker Street, from where Sherlock had gone somewhere else, with the excuse that he had some urgent business to attend to.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, Yon returned to the apartment. He took off his coat and sat down in a chair at a desk he kept in perfect order. From a drawer, he took out a notebook locked to a tiny lock, unlocked it, and began to write. He was the first to record today's date, what was the date of his day on Earth, the course of his mission, and he concluded by telling of Sherlock Holmes and his case today. The more time he spent with the detective, the more the thought of leaving him for good began to weigh on him. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes, wondering what to do next. He had to repair his ship. Find a spy and eventually come home as a hero. The first part shouldn't be a problem for him. The problem will be finding the cunning rat. If like him, he disguised himself as an earthling, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. He sighed and looked down at the paper, which slowly showed Sherlock's face. He was completely unaware that he had unwittingly sketched the detective while he was thinking. And he had to admit he had done a good job. Especially with his piercing eyes.

Sherlock did not return to Baker Street until late in the evening, humming happily. He bypassed his homeless network, gave them a new assignment, and before that dropped by the newspaper printer. The publisher owed him a small debt for a case with his perpetually unfaithful wife. With this perfect tactic, they catch the killer in no more than two days. He was sure of that.

The following morning, the detective was up rather early for his taste, and as soon as Yon sat down in his chair across from him with a cup of coffee in his hand, he tossed him today's copy of the paper.  
„Such service. Thank you,” Yon said and began to read. It became a sort of morning routine for him, and at least it made him more aware of the world. Or at least about this country.  
„The penultimate page. The one with the adverts,” interrupted Holmes, settling himself more comfortably in his chair. Yon obeyed, switching sides with the ads, which included one with a photograph of a very familiar ring.  
„It's the ring from the murder,” he said, shocked.  
„Exactly. Read on,” he said.  
„It’s a gold lady's engagement ring, found around Lauriston Gardens. The owner of the ring may report to Dr John Watson, 221B Baker Street,” he finished, looking at the detective in disbelief.  
„Because, my dear Watson, everyone knows me. And then we wouldn't catch the killer,” he replied, lighting his pipe.  
„What if the killer himself comes?” he said, apprehension in his voice. He could kill them both.  
„That's what I'm counting on,” for he knew that sooner or later someone would call.

And he was right, too. It was nine o'clock and there was a knock at the door from below. Neither man bothered to pick up and go to the door.  
„John, you have a visitor,” smiled Mrs Hudson as she entered the room, leading a middle-aged woman behind her. I have to go back to the kitchen." and with that, she left.  
„Nice to meet you. I saw your ad in the paper and I couldn't believe it at the time. You were sent by God himself. Could I please pick up the ring? Although I could see him first, if it's really him?” she went straight to the point.  
„Certainly. Is that him?” the detective stood up and showed her the ring.  
„Yes, that's him. Just as I remember him,” she replied enthusiastically.  
„So it belongs to you?” asked Sherlock pleasantly, noting that the woman was already wearing another, a wedding ring.  
„Gosh, no. It's not mine, but it belongs to my daughter Stella. I'm picking it up after her. My poor baby cried all day about it,” she said sadly.  
„I'm glad we can return the ring to its rightful owner,” he smiled, handing her the ring.  
„Thank you very much. God bless you,” she hugged him, then began to remove her wallet.  
„Save it. We didn't do it for the money,” he stopped her.  
„I don't know how to thank you enough for that.”  
„You will thank me by not losing him again,” he replied pleasantly, escorting the woman out the door. If he hadn't, she might still be thanking him. She thanked him one last time before walking to the cab that stood outside their entrance.  
„13 Duncan Street,” she said suspiciously aloud to the driver before climbing into the cart.

The cab sped off, and as soon as it turned the corner the detective ran after it. He followed it from a good distance to the final address, where the woman finally got out. Sherlock had disguised himself perfectly during his pursuit so that neither Yon nor anyone else would have recognized him at all. Instead of entering the house, she had given the driver, the woman crossed the street and headed somewhere else entirely, a few blocks away. She kept turning as she walked, as if afraid of being followed. This suspicious behaviour further strengthened Sherlock's lead. He had followed her across the quarter of London before she finally slowed down and was about to enter one of the row houses when Holmes, dressed as a beggar, came up to her, gave her an awkward little shove as if he had tripped and asked for change. She looked at him indignantly, threw him a few shillings, and disappeared into the house. He watched her for a moment longer before returning home disappointed.

He threw off his coat, washed his face, and slumped into a chair. He sighed and pushed one of the pillows under his hand to one side, revealing a hidden compartment of assorted items. Mostly there were various bottles of drugs, which included heroin, of course. Wearily, he reached for the first bottle he could get his hands on. He opened the cork and drank deeply. He wiped his mouth and stared into the fire. It made no sense at all. The woman had definitely the ring when she left Baker Street. She had it even when she entered the cab. But there was no one but the driver. She had no one to turn it over to. So where did he go? He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't even notice how Yon had reached him.  
„You don't look too good,” he said, walking over to the detective and grabbing the vial from his hand. „A cure for eye surgery?” he read, looking at him quizzically.  
„It doesn't make sense,” he said to himself, ignoring Yon completely. Yon rubbed his eyes and put the bottle on the table.  
„What doesn't make sense?” he asked, and without realizing it, as he rubbed his eyes, his eye camouflage was switched off and his sky blue became his natural sunlight colour again.  
„Who could she have given the ring to? It wasn't her daughters, that's for sure,” he said, looking into Yon's eyes as if looking for clues.

His breath caught. They were blue this morning, like the sea itself, right? He took Yon by the chin with one hand and pulled him close. They were almost touching noses. Sherlock was still studying his eyes. He had never seen anything so fascinating. They were absolutely charming, but how was that possible? At first, Yon's gaze darted all over the place before he plucked up enough courage to meet Holmes's eyes. He saw his reflection in them. What's more, he saw in them his original, piercing eye colour. He immediately pulled away from the detective. He wanted to go back to his room and activate the  masking device again, but he couldn't. Sherlock grabbed his wrist, his large brown eyes silently begging him to stay. Yon hesitated a moment before finally relenting. His secret was revealed anyway.

Sensing the change, the detective pulled the doctor into his lap. There he hugged him, rested his head on the pillow, and looked into his eyes again. They had a hypnotic effect on him. They were something so new to him, strange even mysterious. Something that needed clarification.

He stroked Yon's face before he smiled wearily. He sighed, resting his head this time on the doctor's shoulder and closing his eyes. He didn't mind all the loud thoughts that kept him awake most of the time. But now? Now he felt calm. Relaxed. Maybe it was a later effect of the drug, but he honestly didn't care. Finally, in that position, he fell asleep, unknowingly slobbering slightly on Yon's shoulder.

After about ten minutes of being absolutely sure the detective was asleep, he broke free of his arms. He covered the sleeping man with a blanket and returned to his room alone. He should work on himself. He might have been lucky today. But what about next time? Had Holmes not been dazed, he would surely have discovered him by his powers. He should get to work and get the job done as quickly as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, classically, Yon was awake before Sherlock. He walked into the living room, settled into a chair, and picked up a newspaper. The detective probably moved into the bedroom during the night. When he saw the next chair, the events of the evening came to mind. He felt his ears flush and decided to read. He turned to a new page focusing on murders and accidents. As he read what had transpired, he was intrigued by a specific article. It was murder. The American who arrived in England with Drebber, Joseph Strangerson. He was killed with a knife in his own room. Absolutely no clues. The police were stumped. That's all it said. Except, of course, how nice and kind and all that Joseph was. He grunted under his moustache before folding the paper and placing it on the table next to the medicine bottle.

Though he didn't try to think about it, he recalled last night in his head. It kept nagging at him. How his masking device went off and Sherlock saw his true eye colour. Most interestingly, he didn't react particularly. No fear or resistance. Curiosity, maybe. Though his mind might have been clouded by something else. Maybe it was the drug. Yes, that was exactly it. He shouldn't be thinking about it so much. The detective was simply out of his mind, unable to think properly at the time. He probably won't even remember today.

The door creaked and Sherlock entered the room. Dressed simply in a white shirt, dark brown trousers with suspenders, bare feet and hair, as if he had just climbed out of bed. Though it was an absolutely common occurrence for a detective. Now, however, they were much more dishevelled than they used to be. He rubbed his eyes wearily before settling down in his chair and lighting his pipe. As soon as he stretched, there was a quick knock at the door, and Mrs Hudson came in with a tray of food. On it was a plate of bread, two eggs, a piece of bacon and a cup of black coffee.  
„Your breakfast, ” she said, placing the tray on the table on top of a stack of books.  
„Poisoned, Nanny?” the detective asked.  
„You're poisoned enough,” she replied, before leaving again. In doing so, she remembered to smile pleasantly at Yon.

Holmes had just finished his breakfast when Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson came in without knocking. They looked exhausted.  
„Gentlemen, I have been expecting you. Though I thought you'd arrive a little earlier,” the detective greeted them, looking at his pocket watch. The inspectors looked at each other hesitantly. „Which one of you was hungry? I'm sure you stopped by a little pub on the corner of Weymouth Street on the way. What's his name again? By the green dragon, if I'm not mistaken. They serve delicious meat pies, to which they add a special spice blend that is specific in its particular aroma,” he sneered.  
„Sherlock, let them breathe,” Yon interjected. The inspectors breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes they had no idea how to deal with the detective.  
„Holmes, you must help us. Clearly, young Charpentier, our only suspect is innocent. He was in custody during another murder,” the men explained.  
„And you don't know what to do next,” Sherlock finished for them.  
„Exactly.”  
„Happy to help. But first I must ask you to be patient. I'm expecting a special guest. In the meantime, may I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?” he offered. The inspectors exchanged questioning glances before nodding agreement. Lestrade settled for tea, while Gregson had coffee. After a moment of quiet, with the men just discussing things, Mrs Hudson interrupted them.  
„Holmes, there's a cab waiting for you outside,” she said in a normal tone.

„Thank you, Nanny. Could you tell him to come up and help me with things?”  
„Are you going to move away?” she asked.  
„You'd love that. Now go before he disappears,” he urged. Mrs Hudson turned on her heel and followed the driver.

Holmes, meanwhile, stretched slightly, got up, put his hands in his pockets, and stood beside the door. Within a good two minutes, footsteps could be heard heading towards them. The coachman entered the room, trying to determine who among those present had requested his services. That is until he realized who was sitting on the couch. As soon as he realized they were Scotland Yard inspectors, he turned and started to run. He almost would have, if Sherlock hadn't quickly put the cuffs on his hands.  
„What's that?” was all the driver and the rest of the attendees could muster. Cold sweat ran across the coachman's brow and he tried one last escape. He tried to push the detective aside and get to the door. But Sherlock simply caught him by the collar from behind, jerked his arm, and the cabman lost his balance and fell backwards to the ground. By then he knew there was no escape. Holmes helped the man to his feet and brought him a spare chair to sit in. Inspectors and Yon, none of them knew what was going on.  
„Inspectors, John, it is my pleasure to introduce the murderer of Enoch Drebber and Joseph Strangerson,” Holmes smiled triumphantly.  
„What?” „Are you  serious ?!” the inspectors blurted out together, incredulous at what they had just witnessed. Even Yon didn't want to believe it, but he tried to look calm and detached.  
„Uh, is that true?” Lestrade asked the driver.  
„Yes, it's true,” he admitted with a defeated sigh.  
„Are you sure?” Gregson asked.  
„Yes, I am. My name is Jefferson Hope and I confess everything. If you'll let me, I'll tell you.”  
„Well, we're listening,” the detective prompted, handing him an extra cup of tea.

„It all started in Colorado, America. I fell in love with a girl there who was adopted at a very young age by a group of Mormons. Of course, she had to live by their very strict rules. At the time, I was passing through there for the war as a recruit and got to know her. Of course, we fell in love and planned to go away together. We even got the blessing of her adoptive father, who didn't much like certain Mormon rules and, like a good father, wanted only the best for his daughter. And that wouldn't work in the community. Unfortunately, the Mormon priests decided otherwise, and my dear Lucy had to marry Drebber or Strangerson. But each of them already had at least five wives, and they didn't treat them very well. They treated them like ordinary things that could be owned and simply replaced. I wanted to help her escape, but the community uncovered our plan and I was banished under the impending death penalty.

Poor Lucy didn't want to marry anyone else, but what weight did her single opinion carry over the entire community that was slowly driving her and her father mad and paranoid. They set a deadline for them to decide who to marry, and if she didn't decide for herself, they would choose her husband. During that time, we hatched a new escape plan. And we almost would have if we hadn't been attacked at the border. I was shot, her father executed as a traitor, and Lucy was forced to marry Drebber. During my time in rehab, I heard that she had died a week after entering into that ghastly marriage. She died of a broken heart. On the same day, I vowed to take revenge for her death. I watched them and waited for the right opportunity. Eventually, the community in the states was dissolved.

Somehow, however, Drebber found me on his heels and decided to flee America. I've chased him halfway around the world, across various states to here, plotting my plan. Drebber had not stayed long enough in any previous land for my revenge. He was almost always one step ahead. I knew I mustn't rush things, or he might run away again. So I found the perfect job. Nobody notices the drivers. One day, I watched Drebber celebrate something and he got very drunk on the occasion, almost speechless. I made sure I was the only driver within his reach and after hiring me I drove him to Lauriston Gardens, where I knew there were empty unoccupied houses. I helped him out, for he would not have been able to stand on his own in that state.

Inside, as he slowly began to suspect something, I finally introduced myself. He recognized me instantly, and I'll never forget the look in his eyes. I slammed the door and took two pills from my pocket. One contained cyanide, along with a mixture of several other poisonous substances, while the other was completely harmless. Vitamin C.

„Let God alone decide between us,” I said, giving him a choice. The pills were completely identical. Even I had no idea which was which. Backing up. He didn't want to choose. So I pulled out a knife and pressed it to his throat. At that point, he seemed to have reassessed his situation, choosing a pill bet instead and choosing one. I took the other one, and we had no choice but to wait for the effects of the poison to show. These came early enough, and he understood that he had made the wrong choice. I was so excited about my revenge that it made my nose bleed. His body, on the other hand, was convulsed by horrible convulsions and he fell to the ground. I wiped my nose and went into the next room, remembering a case in Austria where the victim had written a name on the wall and it was quite confusing for the investigation at the time. And as my nose continued to bleed, I took advantage of that by writing a bloody „RACHE” on the wall. I thought I'd be able to confuse the police, too. Before I left, I looked at the engagement ring, the only thing I had left of Lucy, and I thought to myself that it was finally over. Subsequently, I put the ring back in my pocket, rolled Drebber onto his back, and left. It wasn't until late that I realized the ring must have fallen out. The police were already there when I went back for him,” he explained.

„What about Strangerson?” Sherlock asked.  
„I initially thought my revenge was complete, but when I found out he was in town, I knew he, too, had to pay for his actions against Lucy and her father. But the sly fox was more careful, and he locked himself in his room. I found out what window he lived in and used a ladder to get there. It was night and he was already asleep. I woke him up, introduced myself, informed him of Drebber's fate and gave him the same choice. But Joseph lunged at me, and in self-defence, I stabbed him when he tried to strangle me. Then I ran. Revenge was accomplished, though not as I had originally intended. I would add that I was standing in the harbour, ready to return to America, when a little boy ran up to me to see if Jefferson Hope was around and that he was wanted at 221B Baker Street. So I came because I didn't think there was anything suspicious about it. I came here and went to help with the luggage and the next thing I know, I'm wearing handcuffs. Plus, so fast and skilful. You don't just see that.”  
„Before the inspectors take you away, I have one last question for you. Who was your accomplice?” the detective asked.  
„I don't like to drag anyone into my problems, and when I saw your ad in the paper, I didn't really know what to do. I would have gone for the ring myself, but if a friend of mine had not herself offered to pick it up for me,” he replied. With this, the inspectors took him to Scotland Yard.

The following day there was a trial when Jefferson Hope was sentenced to several long years in prison. Unfortunately, the same evening after the trial, an aneurysm caught up with him and he died by morning. Everyone but Sherlock was taken aback. One case was solved. One chapter completed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And from the next chapter, it will be much more interesting. I promise ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Similarly, there were various cases, which Yon always gave a convenient name. There was, for example, a case called Sign Four, when Yon met Mary. A very pleasant lady at about his earthly age. Then there was Scandal in Bohemia, the Red-Nosed Society and a few others. Slowly, Yon tried to bond with the detective.

He was most successful when Sherlock was under the influence of narcotics. That was a fairly frequent occurrence in nature, especially when he had no case. During that time, he may not have had the cloaking device on. One even kissed him in that state, but soon found out it wasn't right. It wasn't real. And he wanted it to be real. That's why he spent as much time with the detective as possible when he had the chance.

Once, when they left Scotland Yard, they walked side by side. They touched lightly with their fingertips. Yon took a deep breath, summoned all his courage, took Sherlock's hand, and laced his fingers with it. Holmes merely looked at him conspiratorially with a playful smile on his lips, and without saying anything they continued on their way. Since then, holding hands has become a kind of pleasant commonplace, no matter what society thinks of them when they see them like this. When he wasn't helping Sherlock with cases, or keeping him company in other ways, he was working on repairing the ship.

Almost a year later, he was able to get his communicator working. As soon as the machine turned on, a mass of messages and missed video calls flooded in. All were in an attempt to contact him. Yon switched off his eye mask and contacted the base. His signal was weak, but that should have been enough. The machine immediately switched to a call, when a blue beam flashed from the screen and Yon came face to face with the ultimate intelligence.  
„Yon-Rogg, we haven't heard from you in a long time. We feared the worst,” a pleasant but stern voice greeted him.  
„Unfortunately, I crashed during the mission. I'm on a less developed planet and it's very hard to get parts to repair,” he explained.  
„We understand that, of course. We will send another ship for you,” said the intelligentsia.  
„What about Thanos's spy? He's also on this planet. I'm on his trail,” he protested. He'd like to stay while longer.  
„If the planet is as backward as you say it is, it won't matter if we leave him behind.”  
„Let me find him. If I don't find him, it's very likely the whole planet will be in danger.”  
„Get to the point, soldier,” the voice said sternly.  
„Let me find him and capture him. I'm on his trail,” he said determinedly.  
„We'll send reinforcements,” the intelligentsia suggested.  
„No. He's smart. He'd notice and hide. I can handle it. I'm just asking for more time and a small module with parts to repair.”  
„You have three years. If you are not back by then, we will send reinforcements to take you away and bring you home. Otherwise, you can volunteer to come back at any time. We'll be expecting you. Until then, goodbye,” and with that, the conversation ended. Three years was more than enough time.

From that day on, it was as if he was unconsciously trying to do the exact opposite of what he and the detective had been trying to do last year. Gradually, he spent less and less time with him. Mostly he assisted him on cases and then used the Mary he recognized on the case as his excuse. He claimed to have gone to see her, but in fact, that was the name of his ship, which he had worked hard on and in which he had picked up his own investigation. He searched for any mention of a spy, though it could theoretically be anyone now.

This partial theft also affected the detective. He felt betrayed, dumped. And he thought he was on the right track with the doctor. He even planned to introduce him to Mycroft. He could not be more wrong. He also made his outrage clear. He blamed Watson for seeming to mean nothing to him. That there never seemed to be anything between them. That's why each time the doctor left, their farewells almost always culminated in an argument. Cases didn't increase much either, and he had no idea what to amuse himself with. Especially when he tried to go to John, apologize and talk like old times, but he would always turn him down with the simple excuse that he didn't have time, even though the detective knew full well it was a lie.

One morning, when Sherlock was again trapped in his misery, Mrs Hudson brought him the day's mail. The room was completely dark, and the detective was lying on a tiger pelt. He didn't care. Mrs Hudson went inside, only where the light from the door reached, before placing the letters on a small, crowded table.  
„Today's mail,” she said more kindly. Deep down, she felt sorry for the detective. Especially after Sherlock and the doctor put it together. Apparently, she was wrong about Watson. But at least he has restored calm here. Now it was quiet too... mostly, but it was no longer the pleasant atmosphere it had been. Holmes no longer argued or teased with her. Who knew it would be like this for him.„What happened to John is terrible, but you should try to live a little again. Get over it,” she tried.  
„Mmm,” came the reply.  
„If you need anything, tea, talk, I'm downstairs,” she said from the doorway into the darkness and left.

Sherlock slowly scrambled to his feet and walked over to the window. He moved the curtain slightly to get some light in. It was a little shock to his eyes. He already regretted even bothering to get up. Finally, he pulled it wide open, adjusted his dressing gown, took the letters, walked with them to the chair, where he toppled over and began to read. One letter more boring than the other. But the penultimate cover caught his eye. It had a New York stamp on it. More specifically, from Buffalo, a city in New York. He was intrigued. He examined the writing carefully first. It belonged to someone with a steady hand, a confident one, and someone who was dominated by fears. He opened the envelope and read:

„ _Most esteemed Mr Holmes,_

_I write to you from a great distance, as I am burdened with fear for my only daughter, Edith Cushing. Five weeks ago, on August 20 of this year to be precise, she left for England with Baronet Thomas Sharpe. According to my informant, the baronet had been married several times before, and his wives had mysteriously disappeared days after the wedding. I'm asking you to save her and put him behind bars. If you accept my request, I will pay you $500,000 upfront and $500,000 after. Please, you are my last hope._

_Yours sincerely, Carter Cushing.”_

Interesting. He thought aloud and put the letter on the table. It was obvious that Edith was of great value to Mr Cushing. The letter also included some documents and pictures. On one of them was a young, self-assured lady with blond hair. She was barely twenty. A tall man with black hair stood beside her. Or at least he guessed from the negative that they were black. Maybe dark brown. He had sharp cheekbones, a sly smile and a penetrating look. According to Sherlock, it was a face he would not soon forget, even if he tried. That is if he decides to accept the case. Though he has already made up his mind. With new energy, he stood up, changed into something more acceptable, and adjusted himself slightly.

He left Baker Street and was the first to head for the cafe opposite Scotland Yard. He had to admit that they served good pastries with their coffee. Not only was it delicious in taste, but they had countless different varieties. From sweet to salty. Although the sweet variety was prevalent here. Now it made sense to him why all sorts of Scotland Yard workers were gathering here.

After a small breakfast, he walked over to that very building, the main district in which the archives were kept. You couldn't find a better archive in London. But it could have been better maintained. The archives held files and files on all suspects, convicts, and, as an oddity, information on people who held a title, such as princes, lords, professors, and, of course, baronets. He walked unnoticed through the main hall, took Lestrade's keys to the archives, and shut himself in. That kind of information in one place. A little paradise on earth, though to him it was mostly useless information. The archive, in appearance, resembled a large, even endless library that, instead of books, contained boxes of folders ordered by title and alphabetical order.

He took a quick look at the introductory book at the entrance to the archives, which contained a register with the contents here and the location of the files. The title of baronet was almost at the beginning, alphabetically, but it was almost at the end. He walked over to the shelf and began to search. It took him a moment since the inside of the box wasn't that organized. In the end, he managed to find the file that bore the name of the Sharpe family. He smiled slightly to himself before putting the box away again, tucking the folder into his coat and, as unnoticed as he had come, leaving. He put the keys to the archive on a random table, since they didn't know anything about the order in the station, so no one would notice anyway.

Along with the file, he returned to Baker Street. He shut himself in his room, took the papers with the pen, sat down on the tiger hide, and began to examine the file. He hoped to find out something useful.

_The Sharpe family won their title under James I in the 17th century when the title was inherited from the oldest male descendant. The last surviving family members are Sir Thomas Sharpe and his sister._

_Their father, James William Sharpe, left the family and died of myocardial infarction.  
Mother, Beatrice Sharpe abused her children. Note: The children bore signs of malnourishment and physical abuse. Their mother likely abused them psychologically as well. The mother was killed by daughter Lucille in the bathtub. No murder weapon was found._

_Lady Lucille Sharpe, after a difficult childhood and the death of her mother, was taken to the Girls' Institute in Switzerland. After turning 18, she returned to England._

_Sir Thomas Sharpe, inherited the title. After his mother died, he lived in a private boys' boarding school. After turning 18, he left boarding school and went missing for unknown reasons. A year later, he made a miraculous appearance at Allerdale Hall. Family status: widower. Five failed marriages._

_Status of investigation: no evidence._

„Interesting indeed,” he muttered to himself. But something about all this did not sit well with him, and it is very possible that Mr Cushing was justifiably concerned about his daughter. Sherlock took a piece of paper and set to work. He wrote down the most important things, and along with a picture of the Sharpe siblings and a separate photograph of Edith, he subsequently created a tangle of a spider web to help him think. There was the question of whether Lucille had planned all this and was simply abusing her brother. After all, after such a childhood, she couldn't be mentally perfectly healthy, could she? On top of all that, he had no important facts at all. The file was for orientation only. He had to find out more. He put the file on the Sharpe family in one of the books, got his coat, and headed out.

He had a friend of his make several copies of photographs of Thomas, Lucille and Edith. Subsequently, he made his way to a shanty-town, a special street where a group of homeless people gathered, often working with the detective for a small bribe. As the scum of the city, they had almost unlimited access everywhere. Above all, no one paid any attention to them.   
„You will be my eyes and ears. If you see any of them, you follow them and then you let me know. If you move in twos at that point, or even in a larger group, one will follow the target and the other will come for me. Is that clear to everyone?” he handed out his instructions, then handed them a purse full of change. When I finish the case, you'll get another.  
„Easy, boss. We'll find them,” the little grubby boy assured him. Sherlock knew that even if they failed, he would bring them the money they needed anyway.  
„Thanks, kid. I'm counting on you,” he smiled wearily at the boy, wished the rest good luck and returned home. Now all he had to do was wait. After all, the Sharpes didn't live in London, so it would be like trying to trap your own shadow.


	6. Chapter 6

A week later

That same night, Yon returned home a little early and planned to spend some time with the detective. He knew things had been rocky between them lately, so he wanted to try and fix them. Or at least try to bury the hatchet. He bought a bottle of champagne and something good to eat. He hoped it would soften Sherlock. He walked into the living room, which was largely the same location as Sherlock, passing one of the homeless. He wrinkled his nose in the process. How he didn't like them. They were dirty, they smelled incredibly bad, and only God knew what diseases they had. They were like human rats. Sherlock was just adding something to the wall when the doctor came in.  
„You're home early today,” Sherlock said sarcastically.  
„Is there something wrong?” asked Yon.  
„Not at all. Just pure curiosity. That's all,” he replied, going to get his coat.  
„Heading somewhere?” he asked, trying not to show the disappointment in his voice.  
„Where every Tuesday.”  
„Oh, and isn't there a chance of inviting you for a glass of champagne instead?” he suggested.  
„Shouldn't you save it for Mary?” he asked venomously.  
„Come on. We're still friends, aren't we?”  
„Friends? Is this how we've been all this time? Suit yourself,” he replied angrily, heading for the door.  
„What's the big deal? You never showed any initiative!” he barred the exit.  
„Maybe because you never planned to stay,” he countered.  
„So it's my fault? You never admit to a mistake, do you?”  
„You're the one who keeps telling me you don't have time, that you have to go to Mary's and that you're going to be moving for good soon.”  
„I'm still here, aren't I? Come on, old boy. Do you really want to fight all the time? Shall we put this behind us like two normal adults?” he tried.  
„They call me cold... but you? First, the holding hands. Then the kiss. And finally, a knife in the back. Excellent work, Watson,” and crossed the room. Yon followed. The words hurt his heart, but they also made him angry because they were absolutely true. But then again, he's been trying so hard all along.  
„Maybe because I didn't know if you felt the same way. You never said anything to that,” he said.  
„Then obviously we were both equally blind.”  
„Probably,” he sighed, looking at the giant web forming on the wall.  
„If my memory serves me right, you made it very clear to me last time that the Blackwood case was our last and that you're not going to help me any more.”  
„Yes, but I'm still interested.”  
„Save your interest for someone who cares. I won't be home today. You can attend to Mary,” he replied tartly, emphasizing expletive before taking the moment to slip out of the apartment. He locked the door behind him and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He felt as if his mind had been foggy all along, and only now were those dark clouds scattering.

He lit his pipe and started walking. He had no idea where he was headed. He wanted to wander through London, but he couldn't really distract himself. The pipe and watching the surroundings didn't help at all. So he decided to change. Something that will put him in a different mind at 100%. And he knew exactly where he was going to do it.

An hour later he was at the club where he had first left Watson a note suggesting a meeting. He stood inside the circular arena, with men cheering around him, and one particularly large man standing across from him. The man attempted to surprise Sherlock with a fake lunge and subsequently attempted to land a right hook. The detective evaded expertly, landing a harmless blow on his opponent that threw him off balance. The crowd cheered. All of which made him feel easily carried away by the mood and the adrenaline.

Sherlock looked around proudly and saw a familiar face over his shoulder. Not the face of someone he knew personally, but the face he had imprinted on his memory the first time he had seen the photograph. Thomas Sharpe himself was standing a few yards from the bar. He was talking to a well-dressed man and a bartender, who handed him a small note. The baronet examined the note, thanked them, then glanced the detective's way for a moment. And for that fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Holmes was distracted by his opponent, who spat on his shoulder to get his attention. The detective rolled his eyes, and in the few seconds he turned to look at him, he devised or rather deduced, the perfect strategy to defeat the ruffian. And as the icing on the cake,  how to breaks his jaw, eliminating his ability to spit on someone else's shoulder.

Stunned, the Baronet watched the brief battle, which lasted barely two minutes, and smiled mysteriously. In all his life, he could say he'd only seen two men, including the one in this small arena, win a duel this quickly. And on top of that, this man didn't need as much muscle as the man did in his mind. He walked over to the bar, said something to the bartender, and gave the detective one last look with his mysterious smile before walking away.

As soon as the fight was over, Sherlock leapt over the fence that divided the arena from the rest of the establishment, trying to break through the disappointed men who had made the wrong bet to where the baronet had originally stood. Of course, his target was gone. He could only have foreseen it happening. He went over to the bartender's, to collect his share of the bets, even though the bartender handed him an extra bottle of Scotch.

„A gift from a gentleman,” he said dispassionately.  
„Really? And could you, just between you and me, I don't know, tell me what was on that note you gave to that certain gentleman?” he asked, leaning against the corner of the bar.  
„I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied, eyeing him. He could fight very well for such a midget. The bartender thought.  
„And would you remember for half my bet?” he asked, splitting his earnings in half. The bartender took the money and hid it in his vest before removing a small business card from a drawer. The same paper he gave the baronet.  
„I gave him this. He says he needs money for a machine. He plans to go to a meeting tomorrow. He also said he wanted to be among the first to go. That's all. Then he just watched the game. I tell you, he didn't take his eyes off you,” and handed him the note.  
„You see, it wasn't all that hard. If anyone's looking for me, I'm upstairs,” he gulped from his bottle and went to the loft above the club, which no one but him went to. In fact, he was the only one, other than the bartender and Watson, who had a key from there. There he set about planning his next steps to uncover the mysterious baronet.

The following morning, Sherlock had been awake since 6:30 a.m. He spent all last night adjusting the silencer so he wouldn't go to the meeting empty-handed. He put on a better jacket and went to City Hall. There he waited an hour before opening. Subtly propped against a pillar where everyone simply overlooked him, but he himself had a perfect grasp of everything.

An hour later, the baronet arrived. He walked past the detective and stepped into a slowly forming line. As soon as he passed, Sherlock came out of his hiding place and stood behind Thomas.

„Hmm, I hope the council will help. I think they might be impressed. It's just a prototype...” he began to talk under his breath to himself, looking at the extra plans from the silencer on the gun. He spoke loud enough for the baronet to hear. He wanted to talk to him, but he also wanted it to be a casual conversation. There was no way this was going to look like an interrogation. And his plan, as usual, succeeded. The Baronet turned slightly at first to hear better, then turned to the detective entirely with a shy to nervous smile.

„Excuse me, if I may be curious, what can they help you with?" the baronet asked.  
„Nothing interesting...” and looked at Thomas as if he hadn't planned the whole thing from the start. „I'd like to ask for a small loan. I hope they're interested. You know, I'm trying to invent an ingenious device that can muffle a gun. Foolish, isn't it?” he asked, a slight smile on his lips.  
„Not at all,” he assured him. It's like he thinks it's completely stupid and he shouldn't even mention it in public.  
„Really?” he asked with interest.  
„Yes. Actually, I'm here for the same reason you are. Though I have nothing to do with guns,” he explained.  
„And what kind of device is that? Unless it's secret.”  
„No, not at all. At Allerdale Hall, where I live there is a clay mine which, until 1796, supplied the purest red clay. The one in liquid form is so dense and pliable that it can produce the most solid bricks and tiles. Over-exploitation over several years caused most of our deposits to collapse. That's why I invented this dirt collector,” he opened his briefcase and showed the detective a miniature of said the machine. „This machine pulls dirt up and drills deep. I'm sure this machine will revolutionize mining. But I don't have enough funding to finish it yet,” he said despondently.

Sherlock had to admit that the machine was very innovative. „I trust you will convince the council as well as you have just convinced me,” the detective said.  
„I  hope so,” he said, smiling the kind of charming smile that made Sherlock's breath come out of his mouth.  
„Allerdale Hall, that's not too close,” he suggested.  
„Not much. About an hour and a half to London. And if the weather's bad, it's almost impossible to get there.”  
„That sounds unreal.”  
„It is. But home is home. The only thing my parents left me and my sister,” he replied despondently.  
„I'm sorry,” he said automatically.  
„It's all right. Nothing that time can no longer solve.”  
„Oh, and after this meeting do you go home, or do you get a taste of London?” he asked in a more cheerful tone.  
„I'll stay here for a while. There's a ball here tonight that my sister and I are invited to and unfortunately that I can't refuse.”  
„Unfortunately?” one eyebrow arched.  
„Yes. You know, those things aren't for me. I'd rather go to my machine.”  
„That's perfectly understandable. So I have,” he said.  
„Really?” he said.  
„Indeed,” he smiled. He had to admit that he and the baronet were very easy to talk to. Maybe Mrs Hudson was right to go out.

Thomas, meanwhile, looked back at the closed door, where a man had come out, red-faced with rage. He swallowed nervously. He wasn't liking this.  
„It'll be all right. I'm quite sure you'll completely enchant them. Take a deep breath, keep your head up and show them with confidence what you're made of,” Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder and tried to relax him. For some unknown reason, he didn't like it when the baronet frowned or down. He felt the need to encourage him.  
„You're right,” he said, pulling himself together and smiling gratefully at the detective. It seemed to Sherlock as if the Baronet's eyes had somehow sparkled, or a green flash had passed accurately, though it was probably an optical illusion.

„Wish me luck,” he told the detective before knocking on the door and walking regally into the room. There he was greeted by several older men. He cleared his throat, smiled confidently to himself, and, as Sherlock had predicted, cast a spell on them with his words. He didn't even have to try that hard. In the end, he was overjoyed at his meeting and wanted to share it with Sherlock. He went out into the corridor, the line was still all the way to the end of the room, but the man who had originally stood right behind him and incredibly motivated him was gone. He was slightly disappointed, though he was used to disappointment by now. He adjusted his jacket and left.


	7. Chapter 7

Immediately after the door closed behind the baronet, Sherlock left City Hall and returned home. He had to find out what ball it was. And who better to know that than Mrs Hudson. She had a perfect grasp of such things and knew all the latest gossip. But first, he should see what shape his suit was in.

As soon as he entered his apartment, he was surprised. His whole room was cleaned. The curtains were open, the windows were open, the books were stacked on the shelf, all his experiments were laid out on the table ... How could someone destroy his very perfectly organized chaos. He knew exactly where it was before, but now? Now he felt as if he were in a completely different room.

„Hudson!” he shouted at the landlady as he tried to find his suit in the impossible chaos. Within moments, Mrs Hudson came running upstairs, all worried about what was happening. „Hudson, what were you thinking? Touching my stuff? You have completely destroyed the effective system of storing things that were here. Where's my suit?” he began.  
„You're welcome. I've never seen such a mess. I've cleaned and washed and ironed your suit since you've been gone. It's been rolling around on your floor since your last dinner with John. A little gratitude wouldn't hurt,” she said and went to close the window. „You haven't needed it for six months, and suddenly everything turns upside down because you remember the suit. Are you going somewhere?” she asked.

„What exactly do you know about the ball tonight?” he went straight to the point. Arguing with Mrs Hudson was like arguing with John.  
„Hmm, since I've been talking to the girls in the knitting club, there's only one interesting event today. A party in one of the finest hotels in London, and I'm sure it's being thrown by your brother Mycroft. Maybe he sent you an invitation you didn't notice in the mess,” she suggested.  
„My brother knows I don't attend these events,” he replied calmly.  
„I guess something changed your mind, or you wouldn't have asked me. Or was it someone?” she raised one eyebrow and smiled slyly.  
„I'm not quite sure, Hudson, when you acquired the skill of deduction,” he replied.  
„I don't have to be a detective, Mr Holmes. So who's the lucky guy?” she asked, excited about the new gossip. „I'm sure he'll be handsome.”  
„What makes you think it’s because of a man?”  
„Because in all the time you have been living with me, you have succumbed to only one woman, but she has left you. Since then, you've begun to experiment with the same sex. John certainly wasn't the first, nor would he be the last. I'm glad for you,” and smiled proudly at him.  
„I hate to disappoint you after a speech like that, but I have a case to attend. Nothing else matters,” he replied.  
„Suit yourself. But it's good to see you in such good spirits after a long time. Anyway, I'll go get the suit,” she said, smiling, and ran downstairs. Sherlock, meanwhile, walked over to the mirror and looked wearily into it. Was he really interested in Thomas? It was his goal, after all. The subject of his examination. He shouldn't take Mrs Hudson so seriously. She just needed a topic to discuss with her friends.

After a few minutes, Mrs Hudson returned with a black suit.  
„I'm sure you'll make a huge impression on him with the suit. I'm sure it'll go a lot better than with the doctor. You know he was here today looking for you? He said it was urgent and he wished he could make up with you... He left you a letter too, thinking you wouldn't want to talk to him anyway. I'm sure he was afraid of another fight. I have to say, I heard the two of you once, and I have to say, it wasn't a very nice conversation. You two were pretty rude to each other. Even if I were you, I don't know what I would do…”  
„Nanny,” he tried to interrupt. That's enough!' he tried, but to no avail. Mrs Hudson, as if she were talking to herself. „Mrs Hudson!” he shouted to get her attention.  
„Oh, my goodness. I'm so sorry. Sometimes I forget myself... I'll go and make you some tea before you go?”  
„That won't be necessary,” he replied.  
„Well, if anything, I'll be downstairs. I'm so happy for you. When you get back, you'll have to tell me everything. Including all the details,” she chuckled and continued to talk under her nose as she walked down the stairs.

That very evening

The party was already in full swing, and Sherlock had no trouble getting in. The guards at the entrance knew a well-known Sherlock Holmes and let him in without hesitation. After that, it was easy for him to slip unnoticed through the others to his brother, who was standing at one table talking to several important people, among whom were the General of England, some important lords, the right hand of the Queen, etc. His face brightened instantly when he saw his brother's face.

„Ah, Sherli, so good to see you again. Gentlemen, this is my brother Sherlock Holmes. I'm sure you've heard of him,” and greeted his brother with a friendly pat on the back.  
„Good to see you, too,” he replied politely.  
„Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to talk to my brother in private,” said Mycroft, and the surrounding crowd dissolved, leaving only two brothers behind. „What brings you here, dear brother. Getting a taste for fun?”  
„You know better than that. I'm looking for someone,” he replied, scanning the room full of people with his eyes until he saw his target. Across the room, almost opposite him, the baronet stood surrounded by a cluster of young ladies. He was telling them something, and the ladies were lapping up his every word, giggling constantly, or swamping the baronet with rows of questions. Mycroft followed his brother's gaze.

„Looks like you're looking for fun after all. I have to say, he doesn't look too bad for your taste. How's it going with the doctor, anyway?” Mycroft asked.  
„It's not fun. I'm here on business. And that man is my suspect. I want to find out what he's up to. Do you know him?” he asked, dismissing the question about the doctor completely.  
„Baronet Thomas Sharpe. I have heard of him, and I must say that his history is quite misleading. There's a lot of confusion. An interesting suspect indeed. Although I'd be more afraid of his sister. She seems more dangerous than her brother after watching. I'd keep an eye on her if I were you. She may be playing nice, but her behaviour suggests certain disorders that may have unexpected manifestations.”  
„I thought so. I've been observing the Baronet for a long time, but he doesn't seem to be the brains of the case,” Sherlock said.  
„However, you still haven't explained your situation with the doctor. From your letters, I thought he'd finally be a decent partner for you. What happened?”  
„An argument. He found a wife. Nothing unusual. After all, he didn't say much about our relationship before,” he replied apathetically, taking a glass of champagne from the waiter.  
„I see. I'm sure it's been devastating for you... but don't worry, there's still plenty of fish in the sea,” Mycroft encouraged, clinking a glass with his brother.

The baronet was a sensation on a girls' night out, and he didn't have a moment's peace. The girls kept asking him questions, and he ended up telling them about his trip to America when he noticed a familiar face. He should take this chance to get to know the man, but for that, he would need a good excuse. He didn't have to wait too long for the right moment.  
„Did you really show them how to dance the waltz properly?” asked one of the girls.  
„And would you be willing to demonstrate?” asked another.  
„Please,” said the others.  
„If you insist,” he finally replied, though at first, he didn't feel like dancing, eventually he conceded that it was the right time. His answer was enriched by the cheers of all the girls around him.

„Ladies and gentlemen, please step aside. Baronet would like to show us how he gave the Americans a waltz in our style,” one of the ladies said, making room for the baronet on the dance floor.  
„A waltz is not a very complicated dance. The lady leans slightly to the left and follows the gentleman. Six basic steps and that's it. But they say the real waltz is so fresh, so tender and smooth that the candle flame doesn't go out in the partner's hands,” and one of the girls handed him a long candle. „But that requires the perfect partner. Will you be mine?” he asked as he walked over to Sherlock during his speech.  
„I don't think so, thank you. I'm sure the lady in the pink dress would be honoured,” he replied, reluctant to dance in front of all those people.  
„That’s possible, but I asked you,” he replied with a charming smile.  
„Come on, Sherli, don't keep the baronet waiting,” his brother said, patting him on the shoulder. Sherlock sighed before setting his glass on the base of a statue and taking Thomas's outstretched hand.  
„It will be my pleasure,” he said, realizing for himself that this was an excellent opportunity to find out more.

Together they walked to the centre of the floor, where the crowd formed a circle around them. Thomas's sister began to play, and the two men, under the Baronet's direction, began to dance. Their dancing was indeed elegant, tender, smooth and fresh. They looked like it was something absolutely normal to them.  
„We didn't even get a chance to properly introduce ourselves. My name...” the baronet began during the dance, but Sherlock simply caught him off guard.  
„I know who you are, and I'm sure you know who I am,” he replied dispassionately.  
„Really? As your name is an absolute mystery to me and I would like to know it,” and he smiled pleasantly.  
„Sherlock Holmes,” he replied, and for a second he felt as if his skills had failed him for this one person.  
„It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said gently.  
„The pleasure is all mine,” he replied automatically. They danced together like this until the music died down and the room was engulfed in a wave of enthusiastic applause. The men bowed to each other, and Thomas blew out a candle, handed it to one of the ladies, and took Sherlock's hands. The act caught him lightly by surprise, as he planned to sneak out of the centre of the crowd and into the side.

„It was my greatest pleasure to dance with you. You're an excellent dancer,” and kissed his fingers. This unexpected gesture caught Sherlock completely off guard. Thomas had something else to add when Lucille rushed over and whispered something to him. The baronet paused slightly, looking disappointed. The nurse gave him one more expression, which said, _Shut up and come on_.  
„Unfortunately, I have to go, but I would be very honoured if we could finish this conversation later. Please visit me at Allerdale Hall,” he said, smiling sweetly before he left and winked at the detective.

Sherlock, when the baronet was out of sight, returned to his brother, rubbing his fingers, which he could still feel the baronet's lips against.  
„I must admit you made a truly stunning couple,” Mycroft smiled at him.  
„As if it wasn't enough that the whole hall was watching,” he replied.  
„You enjoyed it, at least.”  
„I, well...” and he took a glass of champagne and drank it at once. He didn't want to admit that his brother was right. Though he could probably tell by his reaction and look when they danced anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

Returning to Baker Street, Sherlock thought about his entire investigation, and mostly about Baronet Thomas Sharpe. He was more of a mystery to him than any case, and than John, who he still wasn't sure what his intention was. Nor was he sure of Thomas's intentions, since the documentation described him very differently than he had the chance to know. That same evening, he also decided to accept the baronet's invitation. He had to admit that his invitation sounded entirely sincere as if he didn't want to leave, but for his sister's sake, he had to.

Why didn't his sister leave alone? What was so important and secret that they had to leave so quickly? What was she whispering to him? So many questions and so much more swirling in his head, and he had no answer to any of them. Though he may have suspected the cause of their quick departure. From his vantage point, the baronet seemed to have no idea who he was, but his sister must have found out and dragged him away before revealing anything to them that would compromise them...

The following day, a little afternoon, the detective got into a cab and was driven to the baronet. After more than an hour and a half, he finally got a view of the mansion, which stood on a slight rise. The cabman dropped him off at the gate of the property, on which was inscribed, Allerdale Hall. But there was another name for the place in the police file. Crimson Peak, or Purple Hill. He might have thought that the place had a name for that clay, but there was also the possibility that the place had acquired the nickname in another way.

Sherlock adjusted his suit and walked through the gate. Everything was very quiet, except for the extraordinary cawing of the crows that were here. On the way to the house, he passed a large machine that he thought was the revolutionary product that the baronet at the bank was talking about. He had to admit, now that he had seen it with his own eyes, it was truly magnificent.

He gave it another look before heading back to the house. The house itself was large and impressive. But if the baronet had not personally invited him, he would have said that the place had been abandoned for several years. The house, while magnificent, was decaying. Already from outside, the roof could be seen collapsing in the main part of the building. Some of the bags were fallen on the ground, and the overcast sky with the black clouds did not add to the impression that the place was deserted. Some might find this place both spooky to look at and certainly creepy. But not to Sherlock. He wasn't interested in that sort of thing. He wondered what was going on behind these walls and what secrets they were hiding.

He walked to the door, where he used a knocker that looked as old as the rest of the house. He knocked exactly three times, waiting for someone to open the door. He could hear footsteps clearly from behind the door, and he didn't miss a fleeting movement behind the curtain in the next window. After the move, he could hear a woman's voice, which sounded rather irritated.

“...How could you think of inviting him here?!” she reproached her brother. The baronet said something back, but Sherlock couldn't quite hear what, since his voice was perfectly calm and the walls muffled his words.  
„What if he finds out? You know we'll have to get rid of him then!” said Lucille, apparently unaware that the detective had heard her.  
„It won't happen. I believe him,” the baronet replied, and it was clear he was walking toward the door.  
„Suit yourself,” the sister snapped, her angry footsteps fading.

When there was a kind of peace in the house, a door finally opened in front of Sherlock, where he was greeted by a nice-looking Thomas Sharpe.  
„I'm very honoured that you came. I honestly didn't expect you to accept my request,” the baronet said, taking his hand and, as at the party, kissing it. Sherlock had no idea why, but he could feel his ears burning and he had no idea at the time how to react properly. He thought immediately of Watson and how he had been more reserved than the Baronet. It was a change for him. Although in a nice way.  
„I couldn't refuse such an invitation to get out of London,” he said, after clearing his throat weakly to find his voice.  
„Please come in and watch your step, please, as the ceiling here is slightly crumbled and occasionally bits fall off,” he invited. Sherlock followed the Baronet inside and had to admit that it looked like the outside.

If Thomas hadn't invited him here, he would have said the place had been abandoned for a long time. It was dark and cold here, and only a few lamps illuminated it like wandering ghosts. Thomas led Sherlock across the hall to the living room, where there was a piano, two armchairs, a table, a blazing fireplace, and several paintings on the walls.

One painting included a portrait of the Sharpe family. Including Thomas, Lucille and their parents. In this painting, the children were still young, but even here Holmes did not miss one specific detail. In this painting, Thomas could have been about 5 or 6 years old. But he had dark brown hair like Sherlock himself, and his eyes were as blue as forget-me-nots or the sea itself. But Thomas, standing beside him, had hair as black as coal, and his eyes shone as green as two emeralds. Another mystery into a case called Thomas Sharpe.

„Please make yourself comfortable,” the baronet said, sitting down in one of the chairs. Sherlock followed him and also sat down.  
„May I offer you a drink?” he asked, like a proper host.  
„I won't refuse a cup of tea,” he replied, scanning the room once more. There was nothing but the eerie atmosphere. Although it won't be as spooky an atmosphere as grim an atmosphere.  
„It's been like this for as long as I can remember,” he said as if sensing what the detective was thinking.  
„It doesn't feel very welcoming,” he admitted.  
„But it's home... all we have left of our parents.”  
„I completely understand,” he said, about to add something, as Lucille came into the room with a tray of tea. She had cups of tea ready, a kettle steaming and a small unobtrusive sugar bowl to match the set.

„Sugar?” she asked Sherlock. Thomas didn't seem to be sweetening.  
„Two dice. Thank you,” the detective said dispassionately, seeming to pay no attention to Lucille but watching her every move. She was his most suspect.  
„Have a good time. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me,” she smiled as she sweetened Sherlock's tea and left. Sherlock took a cup of tea, stirred it, and sniffed it. An ordinary person wouldn't notice, but he would. The tea was poisoned. He noticed signs of aconite with trace amounts of durman. Aconite is harmless in small doses, but fatal in large quantities. Sherlock put the cup to his mouth and merely pretended to drink the tea.

„Otherwise, the machine in front of the house, that's what you were going to take out a loan for?” the detective asked.  
„Exactly.”  
„And how did you do? I'm sure you've made an impression,” he smiled.  
„So it seems. Luck smiled on me. Now I can just finish the machine and start paying back,” he replied positively.  
„I'm glad. I have to admit, it actually looks a lot more interesting than in reduced form,” he said.  
„I'm very flattered, but I'm not sure I'll be able to walk it off. No matter what I do, even when I start it, the engine overheats and I have to start again. I don't know what's wrong,” he sighed.  
„If you don't mind, I could help you with the machine. I know a bit about it,” he offered.  
„That's very kind of you. I'll get the plans,” he smiled and left the room.

Sherlock was left alone. He decided to seize the opportunity. He got up, poured the tea into one of the flowers to improve the room's appearance, but it didn't help much. He hastily searched the room but found nothing special to help him. No clues to lead him to Edith. He glanced down the corridor. He saw nothing. Upstairs, he thought he saw Lucille, but this figure was slightly larger, scrawnier, and wore a red, ragged dress that reminded him of a wedding dress. The figure turned in place and walked through the wall. Holmes turned instead and returned to his chair. Apparently, his mind was playing tricks on him, for there was no way to explain it.

Thomas was still not returning, so the detective decided to investigate the tea service Lucille had brought. He examined the kettle first, finding no signs of poison. So the tea was clean. It couldn't have been in the cups. That left only the sugar bowl. He took a lump of sugar, but he couldn't determine anything that way. Besides, he didn't even have time to do it. There was a special pocket in his coat, and he took out a small pouch, put the sugar in it, and hid it again in his coat.

He sat back in his chair just as the baronet returned, a roll of paper curled in his hand. He put them in a chair, set the tea service aside, and spread the blueprint on the table. The plan described in detail and drew a machine that stood outside. The two men leaned over the plan and examined it closely. Sherlock had to admit the plan was amazing. It's revolutionary. Together, they managed to fine-tune a few details that should improve the machine and perhaps finally get it working.

Together they spent about two hours on the plans before finally sitting back in their chairs and just talking about everything. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. Thomas walked the detective to the door.  
„Looks like the cab is already here. Thank you for your visit. I had a great time today,” Thomas said pleasantly.  
„Thank you for the invitation, Mr Sharpe. It was very... pleasant here. Happy to help you with the machine,” Sherlock replied.  
„Please, call me Thomas. If you don't mind, we don't have to be so formal,” he smiled.  
„Sure, Sherlock to you.”  
„Sherlock, I'd be honoured if you'd visit me again when you're in the mood. Until then, goodbye,” and kissed his hand again.  
„I hope you don't mind if it's tomorrow, for example?” he asked.  
„I'd like that,” he replied, and with that, they parted at last.

Thomas went back to the house, where Lucille was waiting for him with an empty cup.  
„Looks like he's not that smart for a famous detective. An empty cup. He drank it. If his visits continue, we'll simply get rid of him. Good job, little brother,” she said with a wicked smile.  
„What if he notices? After a while, Edith noticed it, too,” he said worriedly.  
„Then you'd better stop inviting him in. If you don't watch him, I'm going to have to step in,” she threatened before going into the kitchen to do the dishes.

Thomas merely sighed in defeat and went into the living room, leaving the plans for the machine. He was winding them up and about to leave for his study when he noticed wet dirt in one of the flowers. He was sure they hadn't been watered since Edith. The flower was placed right next to the chair the detective was sitting in. He knew immediately what had happened, and he was happy about it. He was very sympathetic to the detective and would hate to lose him. He hastily tidied up his plans before returning downstairs, pouring water into a container and going to water the rest of the plants. He had to make sure his sister didn't find out. If it works, he'll be able to save at least one person he's ever grown attached to.


	9. Chapter 9

The following day Sherlock was preparing for another visit with the baronet when the familiar face of the doctor appeared in the doorway. He looked thoughtful. As if something was bothering him. Perhaps, if Holmes wanted to, he could even ask what was troubling his old friend, but he was in no mood. He felt as if he had nothing more to say to Watson.

„How are you, old friend?” the doctor asked.  
„Pretty good compared to the days before. Although I'm in a bit of a hurry at the moment,” he replied neutrally.  
„I see you're still working on the case of the baronet,” he said, walking into the room.  
„Exactly,” and once more he looked hurriedly into the mirror to fix his hair and suit.  
„Where are you dressing up? Do you have a date?” he asked, laughing.  
„What if I do? Would that bother you? Surely not, you've got Mary,” said Sherlock.

„No, not at all. It's your life after all,” he lied. „Who's the lucky one? Or did Miss Adler came back?”  
„I haven't seen Irene since Blackwood,” he replied, and it didn't seem like he planned to say who it was. But Yon was smart.  
„Don't tell me it's the baronet? Are you out of your mind? Dating a suspect?” he started freaking out.  
„My dear John, you have much to tell me about this. Mary was our client, and you also got involved with her. Plus, I have to stop you because my relationship with Thomas Sharpe is on a professional level. I'm going to see him because he asked me to help with the machine. It's an excellent opportunity for me to find out more information about the suspect. Plus, if I'm not mistaken, I have a case to investigate,” he explained. „Besides, I thought you were done with cases,” he added.  
„I am. I just came to tell you that Mary and I are moving," he said, though it still hurt a little to lie to Sherlock that way.  
„Congratulations, shall I pack your things?” he asked.  
„Of course not.”  
„I don't know what you're trying to do,” he said and went to the door when he heard a knock at the front door. „My cab is here. If you'd be so kind, you can lock up when you've packed or why you've come. I must go now,” he said, and with that, he left. He left John there in utter disbelief. 

Yon thought Sherlock would discourage him again and so on. Or blame him for leaving it, but nothing. That nothing annoyed him even more. How could he get over it so quickly if he still regretted it? He merely sighed and walked over to the spider web that held all the information on the case and took a good look at the Baronet's picture. He had to admit he didn't look bad, but he certainly wouldn't have traded him for Sherlock. But something about the photo didn't fit, and he couldn't tell what it was. Maybe he was just jealous, he thought. He replaced the photo and left.

Sherlock arrived at Crimson Peak and found Thomas repairing the machine. Today, unlike his jacket, he wore only a grey shirt, which had probably been white and dark pants. His hands were dirty from the machine, and his forehead gleamed with sweat. Sherlock had no idea why, but somehow it made the baronet look even more attractive. The detective kept going until he got to Thomas.  
„Long time no see,” said Sherlock, catching Thomas completely off guard by his arrival, wincing as the detective greeted him.  
„Sherlock, good to see you again,” said the baronet, wiping his brow. His hands were dirty, leaving a black mark on his forehead.  
„Am I interrupting?” asked Sherlock.  
„Not at all. I'm just putting the finishing touches we talked about yesterday,” he replied.  
„Is it working?” he couldn't hide his curiosity.  
„I don't know yet. But we can find out,” he said, pulling a large lever. The machine began to hum, Thomas pulled a smaller lever, and the machine began to move. It was about to work when something rattled inside it. Finally, the machine hiccuped, farted, and stopped, clattering and smoking.

„Oh, no. What's wrong now?” said Thomas, clearly showing his disappointment.  
„Overheating... something can be done about that. We'll put our heads together and fix it,” he tried to reassure him.  
„I think I'd better focus on something else for a while,” he sighed. „If you want, I can show you other plans and machines I've devised,” Thomas offered.  
„I'd be honoured,” said Sherlock, and followed the baronet into the house.  
„Looks like we have guests. Shall I make you some tea?” asked Lucille. The baronet didn't even say anything.  
„No, thank you. That won't be necessary,” Sherlock replied.  
„Please don't be so modest. I'll get it ready for you,” she said and went into the kitchen.

Holmes preferred not to say anything. Thomas led them up the stairs to the end of the corridor, where there was an elevator that took them to an attic that was covered with various plans and machines. Some of the machines were for ease of life and others for amusement. Sherlock picked up one of the toys and examined it closely.  
„I made this for Lucille when we were kids. My mother used to lock us in and keep us out. I must have done something to make her happy,” he explained with a hint of nostalgia.  
„That's admirable. I mean the creations,” he expressed his admiration. Thomas smiled at the praise and walked over to the table, where he laid out some blueprints. Each to a different machine. They were all original in their own way and had help in the greyness of everyday life. Before Sherlock could comment, however, a bell rang and a tray of tea service came up the small kitchen lift. Thomas took out the tray and set it aside.  
„Shall I pour you some tea?” asked the baronet, politely.  
„I'll have a drink later, then,” replied Holmes, and set about examining the plans. Sharpe immediately joined him, and together they put their heads. Together, they devised many different details that the machines spiced up or improved.

After almost an hour of pleasant mood, when none of the men touched their tea and just talked or made notes about the machines, Sherlock began to fidget.  
„If you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. Where can I find it?” the detective asked, though he didn't really want to use the bathroom. He wanted to explore the house, and this was an excellent excuse.  
„One floor down, down the hall to the stairs, corridor to the right, last door to the left,” he explained helpfully.  
„I'll be right back,” Sherlock said before taking the elevator away.

He walked down the corridor, peering in every door. At least, the ones that were unlocked. He found nothing specific or special. Finally, he went to the bathroom. He used it and went to wash his hands. He turned on the tap, but there was no water. Instead, he heard the tap in the tub begin to run. He turned and went to investigate.

When he reached the tub, he found nothing. There was no water. Instead, he could see a thick red liquid begin to flow from the drain. He was about to investigate when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see who had been there but saw nothing.

He turned again to examine the red liquid, but it, too, was gone. Without any sign that anything was ever there. He shook his head and went to wash his hands. By the time he reached the sink, the water was finally running.

He washed his hands and face to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He wiped his face and was about to leave the bathroom. He was catching the handle when he heard the water running behind him. This time it flowed much faster.

He turned and saw the blood begin to flow from the bathtub faucet. Within moments, the tub was full and the red liquid began to pour out. He would have checked it if a skinny female figure hadn't emerged from the tub. She gritted her teeth and slowly climbed out of the tub. The figure got out and began to reach the detective. He just stood there.

Strangely, the woman in red scrambled to her feet and hobbled toward him. Sherlock's legs finally obeyed and he quickly ducked behind the door. He closed them just as the figure was suddenly standing in front of him with unprecedented speed. As he slammed the door he heard no crash. He merely felt the door become cold to the bone.

He turned his back on the door and sighed. He couldn't even remember when his heart was beating so fast. It almost burst out of his chest. He tried to rationalize it all as the air around him cooled to a point where he could see his own breathing. The detective's eyes darted around but he could see nothing.

He thought he was dreaming when he saw a black-clad figure beyond the railing. She levitated behind the railing, and he had no idea how she could have done it. There were no ropes to hold the figure. The woman in black raised her head, exposing her bony face. She opened her jaw, stretched out her arms, and walked toward him without moving her legs.

Sherlock started to run, just in time to lock himself in the elevator. He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had gotten rid of the ghost. He could not be more wrong. The head of the woman in black came through the wall and looked at him with blank eyes.  
„The last bride still lives. Beware of the sister,” the figure said in a whispering, cold voice that sent shivers down its spine. As soon as she said that, she went through Sherlock and disappeared. The temperature in the area has returned to normal.

The detective returned to the attic, where Thomas was already waiting with a sweet smile on his lips. But that faded when he noticed Holmes's expression.  
„Is everything all right?” he asked, moving closer to the detective and placing a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.  
„I guess so,” he muttered absently.  
„Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.”  
„I don't know,” he replied, enjoying the attention he was getting.  
„Come sit down. Try to get some rest. This place can be spooky sometimes, but there aren't any ghosts,” and made room for him in a small seat.  
„Thanks, I'm fine now,” Sherlock said, trying a small smile.  
„If you say so,” Thomas was still unconvinced and sat down next to the detective. Holmes was glad and rested his head on the Baronet's shoulder.  
„I'm glad we met,” Sherlock said weakly.  
„So am I,” Thomas replied.

After that little incident, the baronet was a little worried about the detective and advised him to rest quietly at home. So he called him a cab, and after parting, he returned to the workshop, where he poured tea into the flower, which was already dry, and returned to the living room, where his sister practised the piano. He sat down in his chair just as Lucille finished her last note.  
„So how's the detective?” she asked.  
„We drank all the tea. He used a lot of sugar,” Thomas lied to protect Sherlock.  
„That's good,” she replied ominously and began to play another piece.


	10. Chapter 10

The following day, when Sherlock was visiting Allerdale Hall again, Thomas decided he wanted as little secrecy as possible from the detective. He planned to be honest with him. The two men were in the living room, and Lucille had made them tea as she had every day before. But this time she put the poison directly into the detective's mug.

The two men sat opposite each other, discussing the various machines and events around them. What's new in the world, what's happening in London, etc. The detective put a cup of tea to his mouth to make it look like he was drinking. But there was one thing he didn't expect.

„Don't drink it,” Thomas said, rising from his chair, leaning over and lowering Sherlock's cup.  
„Poisoned? Yes, I know. I didn't even intend to drink it,” he replied simply with a playful smile. The baronet merely nodded in surprise and returned to his chair.  
„Good. I know the first time you poured it all out,… I thought you knew, but I wanted to be sure,” he said in a low voice, in case Lucille decided to eavesdrop.  
„Thank you for your concern, but what is it that you suddenly decided to tell me that?” he asked.  
„I'm sure you already know the answer well, so I don't have to answer it. However, I gather you're not just here for the interest and my machines,” he replied, his attitude changing slightly. Now it looked like a game of words Thomas hadn't played in a long time and was looking forward to.

„You're right. Originally, I intended to find out what happened to Edith. The fact that I was at the bank and the ball was no accident. But to be honest, at first, I only took you as a classic suspect, but my interest in you has become genuine,” he said honestly, settling down better.  
„In all my years of moving among others, I have acquired such an ability. I know when I'm being lied to. You wouldn't even believe me that most people are very bad liars. But you? You're telling the truth. Thank you,” he said with a mysterious gleam in his eyes.

„I'm glad, and about Edith, will you help me end this case?” asked Sherlock.  
„My pleasure. I'm happy to help, but I'm afraid it might split us in two,” he replied with a sigh.  
„You fear guilt.”  
„I just can't do it anymore. All those lies. And then Lucille,…” he couldn't find the words.  
„I'll help you,” he said firmly and without compromise, but with complete calm.  
„What?” said the baronet.  
„You heard me. I'm going to help you.”  
„Good. It's time to atone for all the sins I've committed.”  
„That's fine talk, but you're not. I can see it in your eyes. You're scared, and there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, what I've learned in my time with you, your sister is behind a lot of things,” he said, placing his teacup on the table. „Apparently that was her plan. If I step in, you can still get away with it,” he smiled, standing up and adjusting his suit.

„I'd just like that,” the baronet said, following his case, walking up to the detective and looking into his large brown eyes. He took his cheek gently, and before Sherlock could object, Thomas gave him a quick kiss on the lips. This kiss lasted only a tiny moment, but Holmes felt it was both right and wrong. He wished he hadn't finished, but at the same time, a small, familiar voice in him shouted that it wasn't right. That he shouldn't have anything to do with him. Especially when it was his suspect he could lose in a split second. The kiss ended and he stood there as if his feet had been chained to the floor. He could feel his ears burning and he was speechless. He lowered his gaze, wondering what to do next.

„Was that too bold of me?” the Baronet asked, noting Sherlock's reaction.  
„No. I was just a little taken aback,” he admitted. „Um, it's been very interesting here today, but I have to go. I still have an appointment with Scotland Yard,” he cleared his throat and walked to the door.  
„Can I expect you again tomorrow?” the baronet asked in the doorway, his voice hopeful.  
„Is the Pope Catholic?” replied Sherlock, with a playful smile.  
„I can hardly wait. Until then, take care,” he said. With that, Sherlock returned home. The meeting with Scotland Yard was merely an excuse, though he felt they were yet to be called. And he was right. About two hours later, Clarke contacted him about finding a body. Lestrade thought it was murder, while the detective simply made it clear that this time it was a calculated suicide.

That very evening, when Sherlock finally returned to Baker Street, after stretching his body at the game after the case, and looking slightly exhausted, he wanted to sit quietly in a chair and smoke. He might even take a little heroin to keep his mind off things, but he couldn't do any of that, since John was sitting there when he entered the apartment.

He sat there in his seat, studying a web of information that he had a perfect view of. Hearing the door, John turned to greet his friend. He planned to finally return home since the ship was already repaired. But he couldn't leave without a proper goodbye.  
„To what do I owe this surprise?” asked Sherlock.  
„I came to say goodbye to my best friend. Tomorrow Mary and I intend to leave London,” he replied,  standing up .  
„Well, congratulations. I'm very happy for you,” he said, removing his coat and lighting his pipe.  
„Can I hug you  for goodbye?” the doctor asked.  
„And Mary won't mind?” he retorted. But Watson was already holding him in a tight embrace.  
„I'll miss you, old boy. I wish I could stay longer,” and  he  kissed him on both cheeks. Sherlock merely patted him on the back and then pulled away.  
„I get it. I'll miss you, too, but now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep,” the detective said, starting for the door.

„Holmes, please wait. While I was waiting for you, I looked into the information regarding the Sharpe family. Be careful. Don't trust them,” he tried to warn him, grabbing his arm to stop him.  
„I know very well who not to trust. The baronet is fine. Now I plan to prove his innocence,” he protested.  
„Are you kidding? Have you lost your mind? He's dangerous!”  
„No, he's not. And you won't change my mind,” he argued.  
„Oh, no... don't tell me you have feelings for him. He's probably the killer,” he said, in pain.  
„He's not a murderer. I can tell. And my feelings are none of your business. Best wishes to you and Mary, and now, if you please, I'm going to bed,ů he snatched out of John's grip, went into the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He made it clear he didn't want to be disturbed.

„God, what are you punishing me for?” sighed Yon, moving once more to the web of the case. He scanned the Baronet's photo into a hand-held computer. Later, he would put it into the ship's computer, which he had made operational, and find out his own. Something was wrong with Thomas Sharpe, and he was about to find out what.

He went back to the ship, which he already had loaded with the necessary food and drink, the backup engines working, and he still had enough fuel and power to get back. He moved the scanned data from the bracelet to the onboard computer, which automatically began to evaluate it. Before he knew the results, he decided to have a glass of champagne. The way this planet was lagging, he had to admit they had excellent alcohol. He settled comfortably into his chair, and drank as the computer showed him the results. He almost choked up when he read who it was.

As a precaution, he had the photo re-examined, but again with the same result. If it didn't sound crazy, he'd tell Sherlock. He didn't want to hear any of that. He took a deep breath and thought. Sherlock was important to him, and besides, he didn't tell anyone back home that he was coming back. Eventually, he decided he wouldn't be back for another day. Tomorrow he would go to Sherlock's and warn him. If that doesn't work, he'll have to take matters into his own hands.


	11. Chapter 11

The following day Sherlock arrived at Crimson Peak in the evening. After all, the Thomas Sharpe case wasn't his only case, and London wasn't a very safe place, for even today he was requested by Gregson and Lestrade in a robbery, following a lead that led them to the body. And almost as always, the detectives were at a loss. Yet there was so much evidence all around them pointing directly at the perpetrators. Sometimes the detective thought he might try to pray for the detectives so they could learn to watch better. Or that he would offer them lessons. But they were too stubborn and too proud for that. And their constant arguing over which one of them was right gave him a headache today. In fact, he was looking forward to the baronet.

When he reached the gates of Allerdale Hall, he found Thomas outside by his machine. He wore his work clothes, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He adjusted something on the machine, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and made one last check of the machine's modified schematics before covering one of the important panels.

„The work never seems to end here,” Sherlock said as he approached the Baronet.  
„I must say I expected you sooner. My sister even made tea.”  
„I stayed on the case. But I'm here now, and we can catch up on what I missed. Apart from the tea, that is. I'm not a big fan of wolfsbane and durman,” he laughed.  
„Neither am I. However, you arrived just in time for the start. I have a feeling this time it will work,” he said proudly.  
„I wouldn't miss it,” he replied. Thomas started the machine and stepped to Sherlock's side. Without knowing it, he unconsciously grabbed his arm. The machine started, breathing heavily at first, and looked as if it would stop again. But this time its heavy puffing and the roar of the engine slowly shifted to a contented whine, and the machine ran smoothly.  
„Looks like it's finally working. Congratulations. I have to say, seeing it working properly, it's amazing. Revolutionary. I'm sure you'll make a dent in the world with this,” Sherlock said.  
„It's all thanks to you,” said Thomas, looking sincerely into his eyes, which shone like a dozen small diamonds scattered into the night.

The Baronet took a tiny step closer to the detective and leaned slightly toward him. Before Sherlock could object, something along the lines of what if Lucille sees us, he already had Thomas's hungry lips on his own. This kiss was much more pleasant, tender and, most importantly, longer.

As they pulled away from each other, Sherlock quickly checked his surroundings. He was worried about what might happen if Lucille found out. From the look of her, she was very attached to her brother. Moreover, from the very beginning, she had tried to poison him. Now she would surely go straight for his throat until he lay underground.

„Don't worry, Lucille's practising the piano by now. Plus, he doesn't think you're coming today, since it's been so long,” Thomas said as if he knew what the detective was thinking. „How about we celebrate in the bedroom? Or in my workshop? There's a bed and Lucille doesn't go there,” he suggested.  
„That's an excellent plan,” he cleared his throat. „We'll need wine to do it, though.”  
„That won't be a problem,” he said, smiling and planting one small kiss on his cheek before they went inside.

Sherlock waited in the elevator before Thomas joined him with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Together they rode out to the workshop, where Thomas poured wine into glasses while Sherlock made room on the bed and sat down there, too. The baronet handed him a glass, and together they toasted to the working machine and them.

Without any of them waiting for the alcohol to kick in, they threw themselves into another kiss. But this time, they fought among themselves over the dominance of languages, which was eventually won by a detective. Meanwhile, their clever hands went to work unbuttoning each other's shirts. They threw the clothes to the ground. When they were nearly naked, Thomas pulled Sherlock into bed as the baronet lay beneath the detective. Again the lips joined, and this time Holmes found his way lower with little kisses. First along the jaw, slowly across the neck to the chest, where he paused at the nipples, which he gently kissed. He then proceeded to lower places. When he was at his waist, Thomas's hands stopped him as he pulled him back to his side to quell his hunger and his lips joined again.

Finally, in the heat of passion, they had a wonderful night together, having their very first lovemaking, which was unforgettable for both of them. Especially for a detective who never thought he'd end up in bed with his prime suspect in an even more suspicious place that sometimes gave him the creeps.

Sherlock slept contentedly in Thomas's arms afterwards, and his sleep was as peaceful and contented as it had been for a long time. The baronet, on the other hand, was resting with his eyes closed but fully conscious. After all that, he couldn't sleep and didn't want to. He didn't want to wake Sherlock, so he only imagined what might await them. What beautiful opportunities open up before them.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a blinding bolt of lightning that illuminated the room through only one small window. The thunder that followed was so deafening and terrifying that he wondered if his beloved hadn't woken up. That is, he wanted to think of Sherlock as his beloved. But he knew, after this strange phenomenon of nature, this singular lightning, that their paths would soon part, and he had very little time. The lightning bolt was a clear message that he would have to go home. A place he thought he wouldn't go back to. But if he delayed, his brother would be sent for him...

The following morning they sat alone in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast together over a cup of tea. One of the peculiarities of that morning was that they didn't see Lucille anywhere. Sherlock suggested that it was very likely that she was still asleep, but Thomas assured him the opposite, knowing that she regularly got up at dawn. It bothered the baronet a little. But not enough to go looking for her.

After breakfast, they returned to the attic to collect the rest of their clothes. Sherlock was buttoning his vest when he noticed the brooding expression of the baronet staring out the window. What he saw disturbed him greatly. Lucille as she walked swiftly across the yard along with a large knife. She always used that knife when she wanted to get rid of someone. That couldn't have been good. As if sensing that she had been followed, she looked around, and finally, her gaze went to the workshop. But Thomas was well hidden, so she couldn't see him properly. Her gaze troubled him. He had never seen her like this. Her eyes were full of madness. He sighed and walked over to a stack of plans and began to look for something in them.

„What are you looking for?” asked Sherlock, hugging him from behind. It wasn't the best hug though, since the baronet was much taller than he. It was better to be hugged like that by the baronet.  
„Plans of the house,” he replied, busy. Sherlock was about to say something when the baronet spoke. „She's alive.”  
„I beg your pardon?” he said.  
„Edith. She's alive,” and he turned to the detective with one plan.  
„I thought so,” he replied, watching as Thomas unfolded a plan that included a detailed description of the entire property, including secret rooms and an underground passageway.  
„Edith is here,” and he pointed to a spot on the map. „Lucille thinks she's dead. If you go through here, you'll get there. You can climb out that way. That's the safest way out,” he explained, handing the detective the key. „That's the universal key to the entire house.”  
„What about you?” he asked, though he suspected the answer and disagreed with it absolutely.  
„In the meantime, I'll distract Lucille. I saw her from my window and I'm afraid of what she's capable of,” he replied.  
„I won't let you face her alone. We'll stop Lucille and then we'll save Edith,” he suggested with desperate undertones.  
„Please. This is the only way...” he begged, but before he said it, he kissed him. Sherlock looked away, knowing he wouldn't be persuaded.  
„Alright. As soon as I help Edith, I'll come back for you,” he said, but even so, he was reluctant to leave him.

Sherlock immediately headed for the secret underground room Thomas had shown him. If he hadn't promised, he would have come for Edith later. Finally, he rescued her rather quickly, escorted her to the exit, gave her instructions on what to do, and promptly returned to the house.

According to the voices, he found them in a room in the attic where the furniture was still covered. He ran through the door just as Lucille, consumed by rage and jealousy, stabbed her brother twice in the shoulder while he tried to make peace with her. Finally, blinded by rage, she stabbed Thomas in the face, barely inches below his left eye. Thomas took a few steps back and collapsed into the chair behind him. Sherlock pulled out the gun he had hidden in his coat and fired twice. With absolute accuracy, he hit his target precisely. Lucille fell to the ground. He dropped the gun and ran to the baronet. He knelt beside him, not knowing what to do. Thomas, on the other hand, grabbed the knife and tried to get it out. The detective had to stop him immediately. Pulling it out would mean instant death.

„Just be careful. I wish Watson were here,” he said. He spoke quickly and tried to think of something, but any possibility meant total death. He was stumped, and he was sure of it.  
„Who?” the baronet asked wearily.  
„Doctor,” he replied simply, holding Thomas’s hand. He wasn't going to let go easily.  
„You know, our time together may have been brief, but I have no regrets, and I am grateful for every moment we spent together. Even for what I've done in the past, because, if I hadn't, I never would have had the chance to know you. I don't want you to worry. My only regret is that I couldn't have known you even more,” he admitted with a faint smile.

„No, don't say that. We'll think of something,” he tried, knowing it was inevitable. Some would say he had no feelings. He might have been good at hiding them, but now he was an open book, tears welling up in his eyes. Thomas stroked his cheek before taking a deep breath. He's going to have regrets for a long time of his life for what he was planning to do, but it was necessary.  
„If time had been kinder to us, we might have been closer,” he said weakly, before taking the handle of the knife and pulling it from the wound. It was incredibly painful for him, but so it was for the detective. This time he didn't try to stop him.   
„Rest in peace,” he said between sobs, kissing the baronet on the forehead.

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the wooden stairs, and when he turned to see who it was, he saw a panting John in the doorway, his sabre drawn.  
„Holmes... what happened here?” he asked, walking over to the detective. He quickly checked Lucille's body, which he had no intention of checking, since the injuries were precise and deadly. He walked over to the Baronet's body and checked his wounds. If it hadn't been for the wound in his face, he would have survived.

„Are you all right?” he asked the detective, putting a hand on his shoulder. He had never seen him like this. Sherlock merely shook his head. „I'm so sorry,” he said and waited until Holmes had calmed down enough to finally be able to walk. John led him to the door when Sherlock returned to the baronet, looked down at him and closed his eyes.  
 **„** Goodbye. May you find the peace you deserve,” he whispered, wiping tears from his sleeve and following John out of the house. Neither man was in the mood to say anything.

At the gate, Sherlock took one last look back at the place that had stirred so many emotions and memories. Something caught him off guard. Outside the door, he noticed a pale figure billowing hair and melting into space. At such a distance he could clearly tell that it was the ghost of Thomas. Thomas gave him one last look before dropping his gaze and disappearing into space.

John put his hand on his shoulder, and Sherlock looked away from the house, and together they entered the cab and rode away from Purple Hill. Two dead bodies weren't all that Sherlock left there. Holmes knew that his heart was also there.


	12. Chapter 12

After the unfortunate incident at Crimson Peak, Yon decided to postpone his departure indefinitely. Or at least until Sherlock overcomes the loss of Thomas Sharpe. That was very difficult for the detective. He has concentrated more on cases, or not concentrated at all, while under a haze of narcotics. Yon tried to help him as much as he could, but at times he seemed to only make it worse. Plus, he told him that he broke up with Mary so he could have more freedom around Sherlock and be closer to him.

Finally, one day, when they were arguing, Yon had just had enough and took one very dangerous step to silence the detective. He grabbed him by the collar by the throat, pulled him close, and kissed him hard. At first, he couldn't believe what he'd done himself, but in the end, he was glad he'd done it. It seemed to be a turning point for the detective himself since he had not resisted his open feelings since. Yon no longer had to wait for Sherlock to be dazed to just kiss him.

He even kissed him once in front of the entire Scotland Yard congregation. When they finished, they were shocked, as most of the employees were exchanging money. Their relationship became the subject of many bets. The biggest one, however, was won by Lestrade, who bet they would finally get together. It was taboo at the time, of course, and so much of it was betting against such a relationship, but that only led to their loss. And eventually, Yon he turned Sherlock's weakness into his chance to reconnect with him.

*-*-*-*-*

It had been two years since John had been reunited with Sherlock. This time he was less afraid to make the first move. Every time he saw that Sherlock was down, he tried to calm him down, he hugged him, he kissed him, but even though the detective opened up to him, he never got any further. That annoyed Yon a little. During that time, another person came to the detective's attention. James Moriarty. Napoleon of crime. He could keep him on his toes when he couldn't.

The last case was more challenging for Sherlock than it has been. His leads took him all the way to Switzerland. The two geniuses had already guessed, in part, that this would be their last meeting.

They were in one of the larger rooms, full of people enjoying a party, when a man appeared, just to cause an assassination. John immediately pounced on him, and Mycroft struggled with the others to regain some of his composure. Sherlock spotted a very suspicious man on the other side of the room and immediately knew it was Moriarty. He followed the professor to the balcony, which was just above the waterfall.

„You finally got me,” Moriarty said, lighting a cigar. Sherlock followed, lighting his pipe. Even so, he was alert. „Looks like you've tasted fruit from another planet. And not just one,” he said after a moment, studying Sherlock's weary face.

During a minimal conversation as the two of them tried to devise the perfect tactic to defeat the other. In the end, they exchanged several blows, covering each of the opponent's blows at the same time. Moreover, if he let Moriarti live, he could do far more evil and chaos than he has done so far. He could start an even bigger war than he had planned. So he decided to make the ultimate sacrifice. During the duel, he got Moriarti to the stone railing. He pushed him. Together, they fell over the railing and fell down like water in a waterfall.

Yon got to the terrace just as he saw Sherlock topple over the railing with his opponent. Immediately he rushed toward it as if he thought he could still save it. He looked down, took off his jacket, ran, and jumped over the railing. He wasn't human, that jump wasn't a problem for him. It hit the water on legs, and when he emerged he found two bodies on the bank. One belonged to his beloved detective, and the other, still breathing, belonged to Moriarti.

Yon went to the enemy and shot him. Without hesitation, with one blow to the head, he killed him. As the last breath escaped his body, his whole body changed. Mostly, that is, the colour of his skin, which had turned green, his chin had specific grooves and he had pointed ears. It was clear that the famed James Moriarty was a hideous Skrull. The only Skrull he knew was on Earth was his target.

He was certain that humans were not yet ready to discover that they were not alone in the universe. He had to get rid of the body. He made several video documentaries before dragging the body aside. Using a special cloth, he dried the body and set it on fire. In a moment it was ashes. No evidence. Nothing to preserve. At most, ashes that scatter into the wind anyway.

He then returned to the detective. Po pulled his body aside to avoid being carried away by the water, placed his hands on his chest, as he had seen so many times at funerals, and closed his eyes. During this small ceremony, tears streamed from his eyes and a few tears spilt onto the lifeless body of his lover.

„Rest in peace old friend,” he said, before standing up, wiping away tears and taking a final deep breath before settling down enough to leave. He returned to the Swiss Embassy and informed Mycroft of his brother's unfortunate fate.

*-*-*-*-*

Yon-Rogg went back to Baker Street to pack his things and go home. He planned to finish the last story, which he had written in the local newspaper, which loved the stories of the unreal detective Sherlock Holmes, who had only the smallest clues to solve the case. He just put all the pages together when the doorbell rang. He ran downstairs and opened the door where the postman stood with one single envelope.

„A letter for you. Only into your hands,” the postman said, handing the envelope directly into his hand.  
„Oh, thank you. Do I have to sign anything?” he asked.  
„No, that's all. Have a nice day,” the postman replied and left. Yon closed the door behind him and went back to his room.

He sat there and looked at the letter he had to accept in person. The writing it had written was more than familiar. In fact, he knew at first glance it had been written by Sherlock. If he could, he would prefer never to open the letter and hide it somewhere so that he couldn't remind him of the detective, but if he hid it or threw it away now, he would surely blame himself later for never knowing what he had to say.

With shaking hands, he opened the envelope and pulled out a folded paper. He put the envelope down and carefully unfolded the letter.

„ _Dear John,_

_if you're reading these lines, I'm most likely already dead. So is James Moriarty. I'm sorry if I didn't get to say a proper goodbye to you, but sometimes you're just sucked into a vortex of events that can't be avoided._

_I knew you had feelings for me, and I'm very sorry since my heart belonged to Thomas. I had feelings for you, but I'm afraid it might be a mere substitute for what I lost. But lest you think it was all a lie, it wasn't. Many of the things we experienced together were real, and I was very honoured to experience them with you, John._

_You once introduced yourself to me as John Watson. I believe it was only an alias and that I never knew your real name. Although, as they say in any good lie, there is always at least a grain of truth, so there was definitely a resemblance._

_I was not as oblivious as my fellow citizens, and I was aware that we could not be alone in the universe. There was definitely life there, and I had the pleasure of meeting someone from another planet. You don't have to look so surprised. You were a good actor, and I guess after a while, it wasn't even a game anymore, it was a part of you. You've fooled everyone around you perfectly, but occasionally you've missed a detail and, most of all, you've underestimated me, since I know you've faked the colour of your eyes, which were, in fact, amber-gold like early dawn in the darkness of London. Your technology must be really progressive. One we won't have on Earth for a long time._

_I'm very glad that among our entire planet, I could be at your side. It's been a great honour and I wish I could spend more time with you. Perhaps we'll meet again in the next life._

_Love,_

_SH”_

As he read this, the letters in front of him began to blur from all the tears now streaming down his face. From there they worked their way onto the paper, and slowly the text on the paper began to melt away. He clenched his hands into fists, crumpling the paper he had pressed against his chest as a final reminder of the detective, letting the emotion flow out with the tears still running.

*-*-*-*-*

Yon-Rogg settled into his chair in his ship and placed a small frame on the dashboard with a photograph of Sherlock Holmes. The photograph may not have been of the best quality, since it was taken by journalists while solving one of their cases together. Even in this photo, Sherlock tried to cover his face, but luckily he couldn't, so he should have been able to see his face quite well. He lowered his gaze, took a deep breath, having left a world he had grown quite fond of, before finally starting his engines and returning to his home planet.

At home, he was welcomed as a war hero who had snared a dangerous informant and received an extra promotion for it. He'd gone from lieutenant to commander, and that was only enough to slightly correct the story of how he'd managed to trap the criminal. He played his adventure from Earth so well that no one questioned him unnecessarily about what had happened to him there and most people gave him a break and he was able to move on calmly and slowly. And to do so, he focused more on his career growth and defending his country.

He became the perfect soldier, but he had one small weakness. None of his people knew he had brought a souvenir from Earth. The picture he had on the dashboard. It was the photo he had specially edited so it wouldn't just get destroyed, only under extreme conditions, and he always carried it close to his heart. Even when he was on a mission away from his home planet, or even if he was subsequently put in charge of Vers, including her training.

That's a story for another time.


End file.
